The Grey Lord: Independence Lich
by nobodez
Summary: Seems Necro the ASB got bored with how quickly Voldemort was vanquished, so he's decided to send some alien invaders to Earth. The second part of the Grey Lord Saga. HP X ID4. IN PROGRESS.
1. Chapter 1

**JULY 2**

**Diagon Alley, London**

"Come on!" whinged Apollo Black, dragging his uncle down the middle of Diagon Alley. "I want to get my wand first!"

"I want to get my books!" demanded Artemis Black, Apollo's older twin sister, who was dragging the hand of their mother.

"I'm thinking we spend the afternoon at the Cauldron, eh?" asked Sirius Black, former Potions Professor at Hogwarts of his companion, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Remus Lupin.

"Well, I'm actually here to make sure that Flourish and Blotts got the right edition of the books I requested," countered Remus.

"But, shopping!" countered Sirius. He waved to his wife and brother-in-law begin drug down the alley by his twins, "I don't want to be a part of that, and neither do you."

Remus chuckled, "Okay, but only a butterbeer for me, I've still got to put in my duty as a Professor, as you well know."

"Hey, I'm retired now, you won't see me at Hogwarts except for Quidditch games and Hogsmede weekends for seven years, at least."

"Albus convinced you to come back once the Twins are done?" asked Remus.

"Winnie's still there for two more years, since it won't be till then that the twins can even think of taking Mundane Studies, but yeah, I've got seven years, and then I pretty much have to come back. If only because of Jimmy's sprogs making life hell for the rest of the Professors," said Sirius with a smile. "Hopefully Arty and Appa will take after their father, rather than my godson."

"Speaking of Harry, where is he, doesn't this trip usually revolve around him?" asked Remus.

"He didn't want to spend his day was a pair of eleven year olds, so instead he's planning on coming down on his birthday with Nev and celebrate their adulthood." replied Sirius. "He's more his mother's son than his father's, Nev too at that, more Alice in him that Frank, which is good, I don't think Hogwarts would have survived having two Marauders and the likes of James and Frank around at the same time."

"It did perfectly fine our first time through," countered Remus.

"We barely knew what we were doing. I mean, we're Professors, well, you are and I was, and will be, so we've got loads more knowledge than we even had as a seventh year."

Sirius and Remus' conversation was cut short, as they noticed that the alley had gotten quiet all of a sudden, and the witches and wizards along it were looking up.

The two Marauders followed their gazes, and saw the oddly rolling orange cloud to the south.

Just then, Jimmy apparated beside the pair of them, "Guys, we've got to go."

"Jimmy, what's going on?" asked Sirius as his arm was grabbed along with Remus'.

Instead of answering, the Emperor disapparated, taking them to Skyfall.

They were greeted by Artemis and Apollo, but curiously Winona was missing.

"Jimmy, why did you bring us home and where's my wife?" asked Sirius.

Just then Winona apparated in, bringing in Yolanda Wright, Jimmy's first paramour, and her daughter, Hanna Shepard.

"Winnie, what's going on? Why did you bring them here?" asked Remus.

"It's a long story, but let's just say that London's not going to be there in a few hours," replied Winona.

Sirius turned to talk to Jimmy, but he wasn't there, having disapparated again.

"What's going on?" asked Sirius.

Just then Jimmy reappeared, this time bringing Harry and Petunia Dursley.

"Jimmy, wait, what's going on?" asked Sirius again.

"It's the second of July, Sirius, by the fourth the invasion will be over," said Jimmy, before disapparating again.

"Harry, what's going on?"

Harry Potter, nearly seventeen years old, just shrugged, "I don't know Sirius. Jimmy just popped in, grabbed Aunt Petunia and me, and then came here."

"Dudley and Vernon were watching the telly," explained Petunia. "Those things are all over the world."

"What things?" asked Sirius, just as Jimmy, Vernon, and Dudley apparated in.

"They're space ships, giant space ships," explained Jimmy.

"Space ships?" asked Dudley. "Like, alien spaceships?"

"So magic and aliens?" asked Vernon in a huff. "It's bad enough there's one, but now both?"

Just then Winona apparated in with her third batch of mother and child rescues, "We think it's because of Riddle being defeated so quickly."

"We, wait, who's we?" asked Sirius. "I thought that was Lily."

Winona paused, letting go of her nephew and his mother and cupping her husband's cheek, "Sirius, honey, He came back, at least for a while. You don't think Quirrel left after the Sorting feat because of the curse, now did you?"

"That's what you and Jimmy said, that's how you convinced Albus to let to take the curse off, so that Moony could take over Defense," said Sirius.

Just then Jimmy apparated in with one of his dalliances and a daughter, "Winnie, go, I'll take over."

With a peck on Sirius' cheek, Winona disapparated again.

"Jame Tiberius Shepard, what is going on?" asked Sirius.

"It's a long story, and most of it's a secret," said Jimmy. "And I'm talking magical secret here, not just a normal one. Suffice it to say, Riddle wasn't destroyed until just under six years ago. I took him and Quirrel, whom he was possessing, to Venus, and then sucked out his soul."

"Wait, but why are you so upset over the space ships?" asked Remus.

Just then Winona popped in with another pair of mother and child, "TIme travel Moony, it's about time travel."

"Time travel? I thought all the time turners were destroyed years ago. Hermione got all mad when she discovered she couldn't take all the electives without one. Now you're telling me that you've got one?" asked Harry.

"More than one, we've both got one," said Winona.

"Then, why are you evacuating everyone now?" asked Sirius.

Jimmy popped back in, and breathed heavily, "Causality. Didn't think of it until you just mentioned it."

"What?" asked Remus, confused.

"Time Travel is self-consistent, you can't go back in time to change the past, at least nothing that you remember happening," explained Winona. "Until you mentioned going further back, we didn't get the idea for it."

"So, in about ten seconds, the rest of the family will be here. Everyone else should be at Hogwarts," said Jimmy.

"But 'everyone else', who do you mean?" asked Sirius.

"And who's the rest of the family, Uncle Jimmy?" asked Harry.

Winona knelt down in front of Harry, then smiled past him, where her twins were calming down their cousins, "Harry, that'd be Jimmy's kids, Cissy and Draco, and a few others."

"But how will they know to get here?" asked Harry.

"How far back can you two go?" asked Sirius, understanding.

"About a week," said Jimmy. "I'll get everyone who we can save saved, and start the real evacuation of the magicals, and as many mundanes as I can, starting from the moment I plucked you out of Diagon."

"But, we've got to leave now," said Winona, standing. She pocked her husband on the cheek once again, "I'll see you soon love." She then stepped back, and in unison with her brother, disapparated.

"What's going on?" asked Remus, though most of his question was drowned out by the door bells.

"Who's that?" asked Petunia, clutching her husband and son.

Vernon hugged his wife back, "And why's my boss talking about time travel? I knew he was wild investing in rockets back in the eighties, but time travel?"

Just then the bells range again from the door.

"I'll go get that, won't I," said Sirius. He then walked past his godson and his best friend, past his children and a handful of nieces and nephews and their mothers, and to the large double doors of Skyfall. With a dramatic flourish, he opened them wide, and was greeted by his wife, flanked by Narcissa Black and Lord Malfoy, and followed by all of Jimmy Shepard's children and their mothers.

Sirius was speechless as she wife embraced him, "Um, Winnie, didn't you just leave?"

"That was a week ago, I've been working with Her Majesty's Government and the Ministry of Magic to prepare for this, not to mention getting everyone else her safely," said Winona.

"Where's Jimmy?" asked Remus, guiding the flock of Shepards into Skyfall.

"He's in New York," said Winona. "Getting things ready for tomorrow's fireworks, and then I'm off to join him in Nevada tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" asked Sirius.

"Yeah, and I'm going to need to borrow your godson for a bit," said Winona.


	2. Chapter 2

**Compact Cable Building, Midtown Manhattan**

"Mr. Levinson?" asked the tall man in the brown suit.

"Yes?" asked David Levinson, wheeling his bike up to the elevator.

"James Shepard," said the man, a slight Scotch accent in his tone, but also a bit of middle American twang. He stuck out his hand, "It's an honor to meet you."

"An honor?" asked Levinson.

"I've heard about your work, at MIT, though I have to admit, I expected more than just working for a cable company," said Shepard.

"You and my wife both," said Levinson with a sigh.

"It's alright," said Shepard. "I'm not saying you're not doing anything special with your life, it's just, well, you've got the potential for so much more."

"Is this is job offer, Mr. Shepard?"

Shepard smiled, "That it is, David. May I call you David?"

"I'm happily employed," replied Levinson, walking past Shepard.

"And that doesn't have to change, I run a think tank out of Scotland, I call it Cerberus, we're always looking for good minds like yours," said Shepard. He flipped his fingers, and if by magic, a business card appeared in his hand, "This has my cell number. I'm going to be in town for the rest of the day, call me if you want to discus your options."

"And then what?"

"Well, if you accept, then we see what we can do about saving the world, if you don't, then I've got an appointment with President Whitmore tomorrow morning instead."

"President Whitmore?" asked Levinson.

"Don't hold it against me, I heard about the little tussle you two had on the campaign trail," said Shepard defensively.

"How did you hear about that?"

"I'm a rich and powerful man, Mr. Levinson, and you've led an interesting life. I try to know as much as I can about my prospective new hires, especially ones such as yourself," replied Shepard.

Levinson looked at the business card, with a hexagonal logo in the center, and back to Shepard, "I'll think about it."

"Get back to me, time's counting down," said Shepard.

David then turned from Shepard and continued to the elevator, looking back just in time to see Shepard walk out the lobby door. For a moment David was shocked, and despite the obviously expensive and well tailored suit, Shepard was wearing what appeared to be skateboarding shoes.

David was still thinking about the odd, or rather eccentric, Shepard as he rode his bike into the cable control room, the screens lining the wall flicking with interference.

"David, David," wheezed Marty Gilbert, David's boss. "What's the hell's the point of having a beeper if you're not going to turn in on?"

"It was turned on," said Levinson without concern, "I was ignoring you." He then swerved around a co-worker, still riding his bike, "Hello." Then then looked back to Marty, who was pacing him at a trot, "What's the big emergency?"

It was a few hours later, after David discovered the countdown in the satellite interference, after General Grey and David's ex-wife Constance Spano announced at a White House Press Briefing about the "disturbances" heading towards LA, New York, and DC and even after David had rushed to the roof to watch the large space ship's arrival as his co-workers rushed to the basement, that David, finally realized what the countdown was for, and what it was counting down to. He rushed back into the control room, hoping to find at least Marty, and warn him about the danger the alien ship posed.

As David rushed into the control room, instead of a report of the arrivals at capitals and major cities across the globe, he saw Mayor Giuliani, Governor Pataki, and surprisingly, James Shepard, giving an announcement via the Emergency Broadcast System.

"Citizens of New York," said Mayor Giuliani, "Today is a grave day in the history of our great city, and" he turned to the Governor, "Our great state." He turned back to the camera, "Today, just now, a massive space ship from beyond the Earth, a truly extraterrestrial event, has arrived over our fair city, settling as it would above a landmark of The Big Apple, and the Empire State, the Empire State Building itself. It is in the time of grave need, of grave danger, that I ask my fellow New Yorkers to be calm."

"While we do not know the true intents of our extraterrestrial visitors, we do know that they have positioned their ships above three dozen cities across the world, over landmarks of history and culture," spoke Giuliani. "And that tells me that they did not come here with the most peaceful of intentions."

"And so it is, with a grave heart, that I am ordering a voluntary evacuation of the Five Boroughs. With this able assistance of Governor Pataki, the New York Army National Guard and the New York Guard have been activated to assist in the orderly, but voluntary, evacuation of the Five Boroughs of New York, starting with New York County proper, and progressing to Bronx Country, Queens Country, Kings Country, and finally Richmond Country."

"I repeat, this is a voluntary evacuation of New York City, starting with the Island of Manhattan, then progressing through the Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn, and then Staten Island. New York and Bronx Country residents will be conveyed into Westchester County and further north, with Queens and Kings Country residents will be conveyed out onto Long Island. Richmond Country residents will be conveyed into New Jersey with the permission of Governor Whitman."

"What is Shepard doing there?" asked David to himself, reaching into the pocket of his khakis and extracting the still crisp business card, the metallic copper and silver of the logo catching the light from the wall of screens behind him.

"I know ma, just try to stay calm" asked the gravely voice of Marty, breaking David from his concentration.

David turned and saw that his friend was tucked under a decidedly nonstructural desk.

"Tell her to pack up and leave town," commanded David, his words backed up by the instructions being relayed by the government officials on the screen before him.

"Why?" asked Marty, obviously not having listened to the Emergency Broadcast despite it being on every screen.

"Just do it!" shouted David. He then stormed past Marty, heading for his office, knowing that he needed to get as much information as he could to the President. Knowing Whitmore as he did, or at least thought he did, he'd wait too long before ordering the evacuations of Washington and Los Angeles.

"Ma, ma, listen," said Marty into the phone, as he crawled out from under the desk, "Get yourself together and, ah, head for Aunt Ester's." He stood, listening to his mother's response, then shouted into the phone, "Don't argue with me, just go!"

"David," whined Marty, after hanging up and phone and following after his friend. "Why did I just send my mother to Atlanta?" He caught up to David as he was rushing out of his office, laptop case in hand, "David, talk to me."

"Didn't you here me tell you? There's a signal hidden in the satellite feed, it's slowly re-cycling down to extinction?" asked David, walking over to his bike.

"Not really," admitted Marty.

"It's a countdown," stated David dramatically.

"A countdown?" asked Marty softly. "Wait, a countdown to what, David?"

"It's like in chess," explained David, stretching a metaphor. "First you strategically position your pieces, in this case over major cities and capitals. Then, when the timing's right, you…" David took a breath that was either from stress or drama, "Strike."

David pointed to the screen, which showed a new report following the Emergency Press Conference, showing the three dozen cities across the world that either were known, as as with LA, New York, and Moscow, or suspected, as as with Beijing, Delhi, Singapore, and Lagos. All told there were thirty-six of the massive alien space ships hovering over large cities across the world.

"They are positioning themselves all over the world, and using this one signal to synchronize their efforts. In," and he turns his wrist to look at his watch, "approximately six hours, the signal will disappear, and the countdown will be over."

"Then what?" asked Marty.

"Checkmate."

Marty paused, the enormity of the situation finally getting to him. "I've gotta call my brother. I gotta call my housekeeper. I gotta call my lawyer …" He then smirked, "Ah, forget my lawyer."

As Marty ranted, the wall of video monitors slowly switched over to a single feed, and then, combined into a single image, the seal of the White House over a blue velvet background, another press briefing.

As Marty began to call his brother, the President walked into frame and started his speech. Contrary to the Mayor and Governor earlier, President Whitmore was calling for calm and reserved judgement, touting the historic nature of the recent events. Man no longer wondered if they are alone in the universe (though a select few already knew that humans weren't the only intelligent race, nor, to some estimates, the most intelligent, on Earth). David attempted to call his ex-wife, to get her to convince the President to follow the Mayor and Governor's leads and order evacuations of LA and DC.

After being hung up on, David convinced Marty to leave town. David made his own decision as he hears the President announce that he and his staff, including David's ex-wife Constance, the President's Communication's Director, will remain in the White House, attempting to communicate with the aliens.

As David walked his bike to the elevator, the President delivered an ominous demand, "If you feel compelled to leave these cities, please do so in a safe and orderly fashion."

As David got to the lobby, he could already see the pandemonium that Manhattan's streets had become. He also noticed someone he hadn't expected, James Shepard.

"What are you doing here? For that matter, how are you here? Your little press conference with Giuliani and Pataki was just minutes ago." asked David as he wheeled his bicycle towards the doors.

"Like I told you David, time's counting down," said Shepard.

"How, how did you know?" asked David.

"You may be one of the smartest people in Manhattan, or even New York, David, but I make it my business to employ the smartest people in the world," emphasized Shepard.

"Well, I've got no time to deal with you, I have to get across town to my father's."

"Why would you go there?" asked Shepard.

"I need to get to the White House, and he's got a car," explained David.

"Well, there's two things wrong with that idea. First, your father's not at home."

"Where is he?" asked David.

"Second, my helicopter's just two blocks away, at the edge of Central Park. That's where your father is, and with it, we should be able to get to DC with time to spare," said Shepard, gesturing for David to follow him.

As they walked north, David noticed that, what had seemed to be pandemonium, what at least slightly controlled by armed men in uniform, directing people north, upstate, and away from the further epicenter of the attack.

"How did the Guard get here so fast?" asked David.

"Oh, they work for me," said Shepard. "Governor Pataki allowed me to assign them to the New York Guard, since they were already in the city. Hopefully we'll be able to get everyone who wants to get out of the danger zone to safety."

"But, that must be a massive undertaking, hundreds and thousands of men," said David.

"I'm a rich and powerful man, David. What use is it if I can't use it to help others?" asked Shepard.

As they passed one of Shepard's men, David noticed that his entire body was covered, despite the heat of early July in the city. In addition to the blue flag with the seal of the state of New York on the shoulders of the soldier's uniform, the copper and silver logo, on a black field, served at the unit patch of the soldier, linking him inexorably to Cerberus.

Before David could question anything else, they walked across Central Park South and he could hear the whine of the helicopter. Instead of the small, Huey-size helicopter he had expected, David instead saw a large, military-style copter, again black with the copper and silver Cerberus logo. Two soldiers with submachine guns stood under the blades, seeming to keep any panicked New Yorkers away. David thought it odd that just two soldiers, no matter how intimidating, could keep panicked New Yorkers from a helicopter in the middle of an alien invasion, and noticed that, despite it being parked in the center of Center Drive, the cars seemed to drive around the helicopter, as if they didn't even notice it was there.

"David!" came a familiar shout, and Julius Levinson stuck his head out of the open side of the helicopter.

"Dad?" asked David.

"Come on," insisted Shepard, leaning down, and rushing towards the open door.

David mimicked Shepard, having left his bike in the lobby of his workplace, and ran toward the helicopter.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" asked David, as the door to the helicopter shut, leaving the two soldiers outside, and leaving the inside surprisingly quiet.

"Mr. Shepard here picked me up half an hour ago, said that you needed to get to the White House, and that we needed to get out of the city. Then the ship showed up, and here we are."

"Wait, he picked you up before the ship showed arrived?" asked David.

"Before it came to a stop over New York," corrected Shepard. "As soon as it came over the ocean, I knew it was coming here, and even before, nearly an hour ago, I suspected it was coming, what with New York being one of the largest cities in the world. That's why I started working with Giuliani and Pataki towards getting the evacuation started."

"But how did you do that so quickly?" asked David.

"I donated a significant amount to their re-election campaign, and I own a large interest in most of the local, and national media. Newspapers, radio, TV, I've got a hand in it all, even Compact Cable. I've even got a bit in the internet too, though that's just getting started," said Shepard with a smile.

"Multiple heads, multiple ways to bite, like your company's namesake," observed David, as the helicopter rose and began it's journey to the south-east, flying between the ship above and the city below.

"I'll admit, it's an applicable comparison, though not the original meaning," countered Shepard.

"And what is?" asked Julius.

"A good friend of mine, in Scotland, he's an animal lover, called a cerberus friendly, even had one as a pet," said Shepard.

"Your friend had a mythical creature as a pet?" asked David, suddenly fearing for the sanity of eccentric man seated across from him.

"Named if Fluffy, if you can believe it," said Shepard with as straight face.

"Are you honestly expecting us to believe that your friend has a cerberus, a mythical three-headed dog, guardian of the underworld, as a pet?" asked Julius.

"Honestly, no, I don't, but we've recently discovered that there are aliens, hostile aliens, intent on wiping out humanity," observed Shepard. "What's mythical creatures in comparison?"

"I know the aliens exist," said David.

"And twenty-four hours ago, you didn't," said Shepard. "Think of all that you'll know in another twenty-four hours."


	3. Chapter 3

**South Capital Street Heliport, Washington, D.C.**

"So, what's the plan, Mr. Shepard?" asked David, taking a seat in the black minivan, which, as he had come to expect, was embellished solely with the copper and silver Cerberus logo, this time on the sliding door. Unlike any of the other minivans he'd ridden in, and having more in common with the custom vans of the 80s, this one had four individual seats, all facing the middle, with the driver behind a frosted black divider.

"This is a nice van, very comfortable," said Julius, taking a seat next to his son, and opposite Shepard, who was the only one sitting backwards.

"Thank you Julius, it's a bit more comfortable than a traditional limousine," Shepard said.

"Like your shoes," pointed at Julius, himself wearing sneakers with his sport coat and khakis.

"Exactly," confirmed Shepard.

"The plan?" asked David, as the van drove away from the heliport. David hadn't realized that there was one so close to the Mall, just at the south end of Capital Street, only a dozen blocks or so from the Capital itself.

"Well, you're the one with a relationship with Whitmore's Communications Director. I've got an appointment tomorrow, but I doubt that'll happen now," admitted Shepard.

"And how are you going to do that?"asked Julius, this time of his son.

"I… hadn't thought… hmm," he said, and leaned down to rummage through his bag. He removed an odd antenna device, "If we're close enough, we should be able to get a lock on Connie's cell phone signal using this. We'd have to be really close, like on Pennsylvania Avenue, or perhaps along one of the sides, so that we can get to a point where she can see us to let us in."

"This is your plan, this is your great idea?" asked Julius.

"It's better than my Plan B," acknowledged Shepard.

"And what's Plan B?" asked David.

"Mind control," answered Shepard nonchalantly. "I don't like using it, but if it's out only chance, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

"Mind control?" asked David, unsure of the sanity of the eccentric, but willing to accompany him for now due to his potential utility.

"I'll admit, it's a little dodgy, but it's a workable fallback plan. I'd rather get invited in legally, a lot less moral and ethical problems, but I think getting New York evacuated, or at least the start of an orderly one, should help offset the karmic balance if I use it," said Shepard, not realizing, or at least not acknowledging, the problem David had with his plan.

"So, what exactly does Cerberus do?" asked Julius. "Aside from provide mercenaries to evacuate cities, fly scientists and their fathers hundred of miles, and then ferry them up to the White House in comfortable minivans?"

"Cerberus works on a wide range of projects, from life extension to commercial spaceflight, gene sequencing to techno-thaumaturgy, and beyond," explained Shepard.

"Techno-thaumaturgy?" asked David.

"What is the quote, 'There are more things in Heavy and Earth, Horatio,' or in your case David, 'Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' It's one of Cerberus' guiding principles, one of many," explained Shepard.

"So, aside from being a think tank, what exactly does Cerberus do?" asked David.

"We work with leading companies within fields we've chosen to focus on, adding our insights, and our patents and other intellectual property, to their workflow. Take that laptop of yours, without our work in efficient lithium-ion batteries you'd not be able to get such robust battery life, and without our work in extensible computing, you'd likely have difficulties connecting it to any computer network, let alone nearly every computer network you can physically connect it to. The code and hardware that makes that possible came from Cerberus," said Shepard.

"So it's not just techno-thaumatury and mythical beasts?" asked David.

"No, it's not, that's just a small part of Cerberus, perhaps one in a thousand projects, most of it is rather mundane in comparison, though advanced when compared to what you'd find on store shelves, of course."

"Of course," said David, though he wasn't convinced.

Before the conversation could get much deeper, the van slowed, and with a switch of a button, the tinted windows turned clear, revealing the White House, surrounded by protestors and police, under the shadow of the alien ship above.

"Well, David, now's the time," said Shepard, looking to the genius.

David picked up the odd antenna he'd pulled out earlier and handed it to Shepard, "Here, stick this on the roof."

A few minutes, an open door, a phone call, and a security screening later, the three men were escorted into the Oval Office by Constance Spano.

"I hope you appreciate what this is costing me," said Constance.

"It's important," said David.

"Thank you, Ms. Spano," said Shepard.

"And why are you here, Mr. Shepard? I don't think I fully understand that," asked Constance.

"He's our ride," said David, "And he persuaded Giuliani and Pataki to evacuate New York."

"I'll have you know that The President is very upset about that, undercutting his message like that," complained Constance.

"But it was the right thing to do," pointed out Shepard. "I mean, look at what David's found."

"Speaking of which," said Constance, turning from Shepard to her ex-husband, "What exactly have you found? You said something about a countdown?"

David opened up his laptop on the President's desk, and spun it around to show Constance, "Here, this is the countdown that's embedded in the satellite interference."

Constance looked at the screen, and the rather dramatic green numbers counting down, "That's nearly four hours."

"Three hours, fifty-six minutes, forty-five seconds," said David. "And without Shepard's assistance, we might not have made it in time."

"David wanted me to drive us down," said Julius, putting down a picture of is former daughter-in-law and the President. That the picture was in Whitmore's office showed what the woman meant to the President. "Thank God for Mr. Shepard's offer."

"Yes, quite the offer," said Constance suspiciously.

"Well, I did have an appointment tomorrow," pointed out Shepard.

"How exactly did you get one of those?" asked David.

"He was one of the President's largest private supporters, as soon as he became the front runner in the Primaries, Mr. Shepard pumped millions into the campaign," said Constance. "It'd likely had made more of a difference if he'd not also sunk just as much in the former Vice President's campaign before Whitmore surged ahead following the Convention."

Shepard shugged, "I spent just as much on Quail as I did on Clinton five years ago. As soon as he fell behind in race, and you have to admit, it wasn't that late, I focused all of my funds on Whitmore. Helped him get Colorado."

"Well, despite your ability to throw money around, I'm still not fully convinced you're needed here," said Constance.

"Just get the President, and then, whether he listens or not, we'll be on our way," said Shepard.

"Perhaps you'd better do the talking Shepard," said David.

"Oh?"

"Thomas and David don't have the best of relationships," explained Constance. "David thought I was sleeping with him during the Ninety-four governor's campaign."

"I take it you weren't" asked Shepard.

"Of course not!" countered Constance indignantly.

"I see, well, I'll do my best," offered Shepard.

As Constance left to get the President, Shepard walked over to David, "Okay, explain everything to me, one more time, so I don't mess it up. I'd rather not be the reason the President dies in four hours."

David went over the details, which Shepard already knew, again, as Constance brought the President from the Cabinet room.

"This better be good," said Whitmore as he came into the Oval Office. He then caught sight of David, "What is he doing here?"

"Mr. Levinson is helping to save your life, Mr. President," said Shepard.

"And who are you?" asked Whitmore.

"I'm James Tiberius Shepard, Founder of Cerberus, a think tank out of Scotland. I was also a major contributor to your campaign, and your eleven o'clock tomorrow," said Shepard, offering his hand to shake.

"Shepard," said Whitmore, shaking the hand, "I wasn't expecting you. Aren't you a little early?"

"A bit, but once you hear what Mr. Levinson's discovered, you'll understand," said Shepard, without his so far characteristic ego. It seemed that even he knew he wasn't the most powerful man in the room anymore.

"And what, exactly, has David discovered?" asked Whitmore.

Shepard turned around and turned on the television, though it was muted, showing a news report of the surprisingly successful evacuation of lower Manhattan. It also showed a significant amount of interference. "Notice the interference, if you isolate it, as Mr. Levinson did, you'll notice something." He then walked over to David's laptop and pressed a button. Suddenly the beeping signal that David had earlier isolated in his office was playing from the laptop's tiny speaker, "This is the signal, introduced by the aliens, into our remaining satellite communications. At first, Mr. Levinson just noticed that it was on a diminishing cycle, it was only when the ships revealed themselves that he realized the full implication of the signal."

Shepard grabbed a convenient globe, "It's about line of sight, the mothership positioned midway between the Moon and Earth, at least after having dropped the smaller ships off. From there it can only reach half of the Earth's surface, and thus, only half of the ships. So, to reach the other half, to coordinate their mission, it's using our satellites to send a signal to the other ships, allowing them to coordinate there attacks."

"Attacks?" asked Whitmore.

"Yes, Mr. President, attacks. They've arrayed their ships over the thirty-six largest and most important cities in the world, over every continent save Antarctica. They're sending a signal through their ships that will end at midnight tonight, here in Washington at least. They've attempted no communications whatsoever, and responded to none of our own. This is the first step of an invasion."

"Are they coming to Earth for resources?" asked Constance.

Shepard shook his head, "It's easier to get pretty much everything on Earth out in the Solar System. The only scarce resource we have here on Earth is life."

"What about water? Earth's the only place with oceans," countered Whitmore.

"Europa's got at least as much water as Earth, likely more," said Shepard. "And it's easier to get to as well. Add in the various comets and asteroids in the Kuiper Belt, and there's likely more water out there then we can dream of. Metals and minerals too, and they're not at the bottom of a gravity well either. No, the only reason to come to Earth is for life. Either because they need a new planet, to they need the lifeforms here."

"Slavery?" asked the President.

Shepard shrugged, "Slavery, food, maybe Earth women are easy, who knows. What we do know, is that they plan on taking out our major cities, at least thirty-six of them, possibly even more, before landing troops, at least that's likely given the size of the mothership, and taking over."

"We need to evacuate," said the President.

"And not just LA and DC either," said Shepard. "We need to evacuate all of the major cities, and encourage our allies to do the same while we can still communicate," said Shepard. "I've already encouraged my own family to leave London for my sister's house in Scotland. Luckily my mother's already dead, or else I'd be telling her to leave Denver too."

"And what about taking the fight to them?" asked Whitmore.

Shepard shrugged again, "I don't know, Mr. President. I may be a genius billionaire philanthropist, but I'm not a military man. Get the DoD and the Joint Chiefs involved." Shepard chuckled, "Though, you might need some more unconventional forces if they're as advanced as I fear."

"Unconventional?" asked Whitmore.

Shepard reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and removed a foot-long wooden stick, twirling it between his fingers, "You know, unconventional."

Whitmore looked surprised, while Constance, David, and Julius only looked confused.

"I hadn't thought of them," said Whitmore. "Do you think your kind would be able to assist in the evacuation?"

"Perhaps of high value targets, but not in any large way. Most witches and wizards can barely take another person along a few hundred miles, I myself am limited to two for anything over a hundred miles, and less than five hundred overall. While a portkey'll get more people further, it's not exactly a common skill."

"Witches?" asked Constance. "Wizards? What are you talking about?"

"So, you're saying your friend really does have a mythological three-headed dog as a pet?" asked David.

"He'd like a dragon, but those are pretty restricted by the ICW," said Shepard.

"ICW?" asked David.

"International Confederation of Wizards," said Whitmore. "Sort of a magical UN, only a few hundred years older."

"So, we're just going to magic our way out of this?" asked Julius. "Wave your magic wand and make everything better?"

"No," said Shepard shaking his head. "There's a reason it's secret, there's just not enough witches and wizards to make a difference. Less than one in a thousand births are magical, at least among humans, and most magic is personal, at most affecting small groups or areas. Even the most powerful magic, protecting schools and government buildings, requires the work of dozens of casters over multiple days. And even that won't save you from bombs or the like. I doubt the alien weapon, whatever it is, would be stopped by any ward currently in existence, especially if it's of the city-killer variety."

"So, what good would it be?" asked David. "If magic can't save everybody, what use is it?"

"It can't stop the aliens now, and can't stop their weapons. I wouldn't say it's useless. You can't figure out a way to save everybody either, but you won't see me calling science useless. It's a tool, just like any other."

"So, your techno-thaumatury?" asked Julius.

"Traditionally it's thought that magic and technology can't work together, but mainly it's a matter of interference rather than incompatibility," said Shepard. He then looked down at the laptop, "But we don't have time for that. We have less than three and a half hours to save as many people as possible."

"I'll give the order, call up the Guard and Reserve, start the evacuations of LA and DC," said Whitmore. "I'm guessing I have you to thank for New York's early start?"

"I was in the area," said Shepard with a shrug.

"Hopefully it won't be too late to save as many people as we can," said Whitmore. "I'll have them get Air Force One ready, we'll leave here in two hours," he added.

"So long?" asked Julius.

"We've got an attempt at talking with them first, though it looks like something more out of 'Close Encounters' than I'd have liked," said Whitmore.

"If I may be so bold, Mr. President?" asked Shepard.

"Yes, Mr. Shepard?" asked Whitmore.

"NORAD and StratCom are vulnerable, especially since it's likely the aliens will quickly assume air superiority," said Shepard. "They've already achieved orbital supremacy."

Whitmore nodded, "Makes sense, luckily Challenger's either too small or too unimportant for them to go after." He then turned and walked from the Oval Office.

"Why did you mention NORAD?" asked Constance, who had stayed in the room.

"That's where they send Air Force Two," said Shepard. "I'd rather keep as much of the Chain of Succession intact as possible."


	4. Chapter 4

**Air Force One, Washington, D.C.**

"How much time do we have left on the countdown?" asked President Whitmore, as Air Force One taxied down the runway. He leaned on the wall, the windows dark behind him.

David opened his laptop, and after it awoke, he checked the screen, "Twenty-five minutes, fifteen seconds."

"Good, good," said Whitmore, before leaving the two Levinsons and Shepard to their seats and continuing to his office, where his daughter was laying down on the couch.

"Mr. President?"

"Yes Connie?"

"We just got confirmation that your wife made it to Nellis," said Constance, buckled into her own seat opposite the President and First Daughter.

"Thanks Connie, the press might not like it, but safety takes precedence over the media," said Whitmore with a sigh.

"We've got reports of the LA and DC evacuations at nearly seventy-five percent, and the New York evacuation's been at ninety percent for the last hour," said Constance.

"Twenty-five percent," Whitemore said sadly, "that's not a good number."

"Sir," said Secretary Nimzicki, "Reports out of our NATO allies give evacuation numbers under forty percent, mostly due to the time issue, since while the evacuations were during the evening here, it was during early morning in Europe."

"And our secondary evacuations?" asked Whitmore.

"Chicago, Dallas-Ft. Worth, Houston, and Philadelphia are all at above fifty percent. Atlanta, Boston, San Francisco, Detroit, and Phoenix are all above twenty-five percent evacuated. As we go further down the list the evacuations are lower and lower. We'll focus more once we know where they'll strike next, and how quickly they'll do it. Also, once we know the effected area of their weapons," explained Nimzicki.

"Thank God we got the information from David when we did," said Whitmore with a smile. "Too bad we couldn't have gotten the information earlier."

Constance paled.

"Is there something wrong Connie?" asked Whitmore.

"David called me during your Press Conference, just after the ships arrived. He tried to warn me then, told me to get out of Washington, that it was dangerous, I didn't listen. That's why he came down, to tell me in person, and to tell you, since he knew I wouldn't leave your side."

"Hmm," Whitmore said heavily.

"Exactly," said Constance. "It's been weighing on my mind since Shepard gave his little song and dance. Well, that and the dual revelations of aliens and magic."

"I'm sorry you didn't know Connie, but the law forbids that knowledge outside of the Cabinet. Mr. Shepard actually broke a few laws by revealing the existence of magic as he did, though I'm not exactly going to worry about it. Once we defeat the aliens, if we defeat the aliens, then we'll worry about his little revelation," said Whitmore.

"Makes that kerfuffle a decade ago after the Westminster Attack seem more credible though," said Constance.

"Oh, it was confirmed that Riddle was a wizard, both by the British officials and our own. He managed to pop up every now and again, he was behind those bombings during the NAFTA talks, though it seems it was passed despite his efforts," pointed out Nimzicki. "Though it does seem odd that the only people he targeted were criminals and terrorists, aside from parliament. Yes, innocent bystanders got hurt, but they weren't the targets. Always wondered about that, but couldn't find enough about him to figure out his motives."

The next twenty-five minutes was tense, as the President, Secretary of Defense, and Communications Director watched the life video feed from the White House roof, distortion free thanks to the efforts of David. The bottom of the alien ship opened, and a column descended, before eight spokes extended in turn towards it. Then, after a buildup of energy, the weapon fired, first sending out a green beam, and then a pulse of energy that destroyed the camera. The pilot had banked the plane southwards, allowing the passengers to see the attack, the column of energy exploding the White House, and then proceeding outwards at a surprisingly sedate pace. It wasn't until a minute later that, after the shock wave had traveled perhaps a half dozen miles, and still expanding, that the weapon turned off, though the ship continued to hover above the point of detonation as the wave of destruction expanded outwards.

Over the next hour reports came in from the three destroyed citied in the US, as well as from across the globe. Aside from the minimal radiation effects, the effects were similar to that estimated from the Tsar Bomba, or rather, the Tsar Bomba as it was designed, rather than the smaller tested size. The National Mall was totally destroyed, nothing left but ash and embers. Out to the circumference of the ships, now aptly given the name City Destroyers, themselves almost everything was destroyed, save the most hardened or protected structure, and nobody survived. The heat travelled as far as the outskirts of Baltimore, setting buildings and forests, dry from the summer heat, alight. All of the skyscrapers in Downtown Baltimore had their windows blown out, even reaching as far as the near side of the Delmarva peninsula. And that was just for Washington.

In New York the utter destruction went from Canal St. to 77th Street, from Hoboken to Hunters Point, and the worst of the pressure wave went from Prospect Park, to Laguadia, from the George Washington Bridge, barely intact, to the Meadowlands. There were windows broken on the outskirts of Princeton, Westport, and West Point.

In Los Angeles the utter devastation went from Echo Park to St. John's Cathedral, from the junction of the Five and Ten to Macarthur Park. The worst of the pressure wave went from Glendale to South Gate, Montbello to Beverly Hills. Fires broke out in Pomona, Santa Ana, and Santa Clarita, and windows broke in Palmdale, Ontario, and Irvine.

London's Destroyer parked above the rebuilt Palace of Westminster, striking the New Big Ben clock tower. Hyde Park, Slade Gardens, the Tower of London, and London Euston were utterly destroyed. Kew Gardens were just beyond the edge of the Destoryer, as was Wembley Stadium, and most of London City airport, though they were well within the fire zone, which also enveloped Woking and Windsor, Crawley and Chelmsford, Stansted and Stevenage.

The destruction was repeated around the globe. Mexico City, Bogota, and Sao Paulo in the Americas. London Paris, Berlin, and Madrid in Western Europe. Eastern Europe lost Moscow, Istanbul, and Kiev. The Middle East was hit in Cairo, Tehran, Baghdad, Tel Aviv, and Riyadh. Africa even got hit, beyond Egypt, in Lagos and Johannesburg. Asia, befitting it's larger portion of the world's population was the most hit. Delhi, Mumbai, Kolkata, Karachi, and Dhaka in the Sub-continent. Bangkok, Jakarta, Singapore, Ho Chi Minh City, and Manila in South-east Asia. China got hit by three, at Shanghai, Beijing, and Guangzhou, though it was likely the Seoul and Tokyo Destroyers would head to the most populous country in the world after they were done with Korea and Japan. Even Melbourne in Australia was hit. Thirty-six cities destroyed, tens to hundreds of millions dead, just as many displaced, and many times more in danger.

"Even if we do win, how will we survive?" asked Whitmore as he read the list of targets.

-Update 09/26/13


	5. Chapter 5

**JULY 3**

**Air Force One, 30,000 feet above Southern Illinois**

"Where's the President?" asked Shepard as he peeked his head into the President's office, though saw only Constance.

"He's overseeing the counterattack," said Constance.

Shepard sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head, "He's still thinking like a fighter pilot."

"What do you mean?"

Shepard came in and took a seat opposite Constance, "Connie, how big are the City Destroyers?"

"Fifteen miles … twenty-four kilometers … across. A kilometer tall at the edge, and four in the center," said Constance, remembering from her briefing earlier.

"So, larger than any target we've ever sent fighters against before, right? I mean, you don't send fighters to take out an aircraft carrier, you use cruisers and submarines, right? You don't send fighters to attack a city, you use bombers and cruise missiles. What good is a missile designed to destroy airplanes against something two orders of magnitude larger? It'll be like shooting an aircraft carrier with a hunting rifle. Sure, you'll hit it, but what good is it going to do?"

"Oh my god," said Constance softly.

"And I ask you, what sort of defense do we use on our own ships?" asked Shepard.

"Guns and missiles."

"And fighters," added Shepard. "I can't guarantee that the aliens will have fighters, guns, or missiles, but it stands to reason that a City Destroyer would have more than just their main weapon. Even the Death Star had TIE fighters and Turbolaser batteries. What happens if they decide that whatever fighters the President is sending are a nuisance, despite how little damage they'll cause?"

Constance stood, and then rushed to the front of Air Force One, to get to the upper level where the President and General Grey were overseeing the counter-attack.

A few minutes later Constance led both men back to Shepard.

"What's this you're saying about the counter attack being a bad idea?" asked General Grey.

"General, would you use a fighter to attack an aircraft carrier or battleship?" asked Shepard.

"No, we'd use Cruisers and Submarines to destroy it from range, either with missiles or torpedoes," said Grey.

"And would you use fighters to attack a city?" asked Shepard.

"No, we'd use bombers or cruise missiles," said Grey.

Whitmore practically fell into the seat, head in his hands, "I've been thinking like a fighter pilot."

Shepard nodded, "I'm sorry to say, but you have." He turned back to General Grey, "General, I know you're a Marine, but does the Navy have any ships in range, either surface or subsurface, that can lob a few cruise missiles at the City Destroyers? Nothing nuclear, obviously, since they're still over US soil, but something."

Just then Secretary Nimzicki showed up, "And who are you, exactly, to be giving this advice? I've had the NSA look you up, and before nineteen eighty three you didn't exist."

"What do you mean by that?" asked General Grey, turning on the Secretary of Defense.

"Just that, prior to May of Eighty-Three there were no records of him existing, and even that is a circumstantial reference to a 'Tiberius' from the grandfather of the woman who claims to be his sister, though at least with her the records are more substantial earlier. The first concrete references to a 'James Tiberius Shepard' didn't pop up until Eighty-Seven, and that was when first bastard was born. Officially he's the son of John Shepard and Jane Shepard née Skrobanek, born February Fifteenth, Fifty-Two in Riverside, Iowa, though, again, neither John or Jane existed in any records until the mid-eighties. All of our records show that he's real, but if you go back to the original records, the microfiche at the Washington County Courthouse in Iowa, they don't exist. He's fictional, made up," said Nimzicki. He then placed both hands on the table and stared at Shepard, "Who are you, and why shouldn't I have the Secret Service arrest you right here?"

This was a complication Shepard hadn't expected, but then, he'd done what he could to establish himself in Britain, not America. Plus, he had hoped more of the National Intelligence apparatus would have been destroyed in Washington.

"You also don't have any records with the Department of Magic," added Nimzicki. "According to them you're not a wizard, which is how you get that wand of yours into the White House."

A pair of secret service agents stepped into the office. One of them spoke up, "Mr. Shepard, if you'll calmly stand, I need to confiscate any weapons, wands, or other dangerous items on your person."

Shepard sighed and then stood, "You know, there's a perfectly rational explanation for all this." He put his hands up, palms forward and fingers splayed, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. He knew they couldn't hurt him, but he needed to be trusted by the President, something that was quickly becoming impossible without intervention.

As the two Secret Service agents began to search Shepard, Nimzicki, a note of pride in his voice, asked, "And what, pray tell, is your so-called 'perfectly rational explanation'?"

"I'm a time traveller," said Shepard with a straight face.

"So, you're crazy too?" asked Nimzicki.

"Magic and aliens are real, but you question the existence of time travel?" asked Shepard.

"Let him speak," said Whitmore. "Though, General Grey, postpone the counter-attack until I return."

General Grey saluted, "Sir." He then left, leaving Constance, Whitmore, Nimzicki, Shepard, and the two Secret Service Agents in the office.

"So, time travel? I suppose you knew about all this then?" asked Whitmore.

"Sort of," said Shepard. "You see, it wasn't just time travel. I'm from a parallel dimension, different from this one in several key ways, one of which is this alien invasion."

"But you seemed rather prepared," said Nimzicki. "I'd almost believe you were an advance agent of the aliens."

"No, I have no love for the aliens," said Shepard, as the Secret Service agent pulled off his jacket to more closely examine the expanded pockets. They'd already created a small pile of wands, guns, plastic potion vials, and shrunken vehicles. "I do, though, have some shorter duration time travel devices. I'd tell you more, but it's a secret."

"Now is not the time for keeping secrets, Mr. Shepard," said the President.

"No, it's a secret, a magical secret," said Shepard.

"A Fidelious?" asked the Secret Service agent, who had decided to cut his losses and just took the jacket from Shepard, and was now thinking of doing the same with the pants.

"A wizard Secret Service agent, smart move Nimzicki. I don't care what all the talking heads say about you, you're a pretty smart man," said Shepard.

"What's a 'fidelious'?" asked the President.

"A magically protected secret, sir. Once cast it prevents anyone but the Keeper of the secret from telling anyone about the secret Kept. It is commonly used to protect locations and people, though more specific secrets, like the nature of Mr. Shepard's time travel device, can also be Kept," explained the agent.

"That's a good summary, though I usually keep my secrets at least two layers deep, with identity of the Keeper Kept by myself. Makes it so even my secret Keeper doesn't know they have the secret," said Shepard. "Should have used it on my history, now that I think about it. But then, nobody's perfect, though I do try."

"So, you're a time traveller from a different, parallel, timeline. That's why you don't exist prior to your efforts in the mid-eighties," said the President.

"Or so he claims," said Nimzicki.

"Mr. Secretary, I have no reason to lie to you about this. Here I'll tell you even more. I was born in Eighty-Four, not Fifty-Two, and I was twenty-nine when I arrived in this timeline, hence the year slip," said Shepard.

"Twenty Thirteen?" asked Constance, speaking up for the first time since the revelations began.

"Yes," said Shepard, who was stepping out of his pants as instructed by the Secret Service wizard. "Sorry about this, unfortunately, my other clothes are in my jacket, and that's been confiscated," said Shepard, as she stood in the President's office on Air Force One in just his undershirt, boxers, and socks.

"I'm sure we can arrange something," said Whitmore.

"You trust him?" asked Nimzicki.

"He's been trustworthy so far, and his insights will likely save the lives of hundreds of good pilots," said Whitmore, who stood. "Mr. Nimzicki, examine Mr. Shepard's clothes, and return anything not dangerous to him as soon as possible. He's my guest for duration of the emergency. Then, he's all yours. Until then, I've got to switch our counter-attack plans."

"Cruise missiles, Mr. President. If they weren't four kilometers tall, I'd say drop some Arc Light on them," said Shepard. "Whatever you do, don't attack them with fighters. They'll be like gnats, annoying but ultimately insignificant."

"Thank you for your advice, Mr. Shepard," said Whitmore, before leaving the office and heading back to the command center and General Gray.

"I don't trust you Shepard," said Nimzicki.

"I lied to you, that's understandable," said Shepard, still confidently standing in his underwear. "I would rather live on a planet ruled by humans than aliens, though, you can trust in that. Until we know how dangerous these aliens are, though, I urge caution."

"I don't need advice from the likes of you," spat Nimzicki.

"Mr. Secretary, if it hadn't have been for me, you'd likely have died in the attack on Washington. I saved you life," said Shepard. "I saved the lives of everyone on this plane, and this is the thanks I get?" he asked, gesturing at his barely clad body.

"You lied to me, to the Government of the United States, and to the President. Just because you told some story now doesn't mean that's the truth."

"It doesn't have to be the truth," said Shepard. "It's a good enough explanation until this is all over. If we win, you get to figure me out, if we lose, the aliens will likely have killed both of us."


	6. Chapter 6

**Air Force One, 30,000 feet over Central Kansas**

David groaned as he opened an official Air Force One airsickness bag.

"It's Air Force One, for crying out loud," said Julius, sitting beside him. "Still he gets sick," he said to Shepard, sitting across from him. He'd gotten his suit back from the Secret Service agents, though all of his weapons and wands were gone, not that he especially needed them.

"I don't feel so good," said David wearily.

Shepard was about to offer something when Julius extolled his own condition, "Look at me, huh? Like a rock."

David grew slightly green.

"Could be bad weather, could be good weather, it doesn't matter."

Shepard tried to interrupt, but could only mutely protest, knowing just how funny this little scene was, and not wanting to interrupt it.

"We could go up, we could go down," said Julius, gesturing wildly.

"We could go back, we could go forward," continued Julius, his nauseous son echoing the movements to his disservice.

"We could go side to side," continued Julius, again moving and again his son mimicking, perhaps subconsciously.

Just then David's nausea took a turn for the worse, and he got up from his chair, not wanting to be sick in front of his father, or at least wanting to be sick away from any further teasing.

As David leaves, Shepard finally says something, "I can help you with that." He then gets up himself, following David.

"What'd I say?" asked Julius as the two men went toward the front of the plane.

Shepard finally caught up with David outside the restroom, where David's sickness could just be heard through the door, "David, I've got something that can help."

David opened the door, "What?"

Shepard reached into a pocket of his suit jacket, which still looked as clean and pressed as when David had first seen him twenty-four hours before, despite their trip from Central Park to Washington, their experience at the White House, the the last few hours on Air Force One, or the rather vigorous search by the Secret Service. He extracted a small clear plastic vial with a screw-on top, "This is a potion, think of it as magical medicine. Drink it and for the next twelve hours, no nausea."

David took the vial, examining the slightly viscous red liquid inside, "This isn't going to poison me, is it?"

"It's all-natural, organic, and made by a fully accredited potions master," said Shepard.

"What's it taste like?" asked David, beginning to unscrew the lid.

"A nice subtle strawberry-kiwi," replied Shepard. It had taken him working with both Sirius and the Weasley Twins before he learned the secret of flavoring potions without them changing potency. Unlike Pompfrey, he didn't have an invested interest in encouraging his patients to not return for more.

"L'chaim," saluted David, as he poured in down his throat. He smiled as he brought the empty vial back down. "That was the best tasting medicine I've ever had."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Shepard. "Oh, and keep the vial, it's worth five knuts redemption in Diagon Alley."

"K'nuts?" asked David.

Shepard reached behind his own ear and removed a two year old knut. "Small bronze coin, smallest coin used in Magical Europe, worth about four pence in exchange," said Shepard. Using the latest nineteen pound, eighty pence galleon exchange rate, minus the Gringotts fee. They'd gotten smarter since he'd first made his billions in eighty-one and eighty-two. "So, that's worth twenty pence, right there," he said, gesturing at the vial, the knut having disappeared whence it came during the explanation.

"Ah," said David, slipping it into the pocket of his khakis. "Seems pretty convenient, and cheap too."

"Oh, that's just the redemption value on the vial, a deposit just like with a bottle of Pepsi," said Shepard, the pair of them slowly walking back to where they'd left Julius, and passed Constance. "That was about a twenty sickle potion."

"Sickle?" asked David.

Shepard shrugged, "Seventeen Sickles to the Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to the Sickle. Prime number divisions, so it's a bitch to make change. I think it's just short of twenty-four pounds without the exchange rate."

David looked horrified, "Twenty pounds?" He then looked inquisitive, "What's that in dollars?"

"Say a buck sixty-eight a pound, so, what … twenty-four plus … six time twenty-four is fourteen dollars forty … another eight times twenty-four is one and forty-four plus forty-eight … twenty-four plus fourteen forty plus one forty-four plus forty-eight gives you … ninety-two and forty is one and thirty-two … twenty-four, fourteen, one, and one is twenty-six and fourteen is forty … so forty dollars, thirty-two cents, give or take," said Shepard, doing the math out loud.

"Forty dollars!" exclaimed David.

"And thirty-two cents, yeah, but it's worth it for you not threatening to barf in the middle of our conversation," countered Shepard, as the pair moved back towards the center of the plane where their seats were.

"We're moving as many of our forces away from our bases as possible," said General Grey from behind an open doorway. "But we've already sustained heavy losses."

"I spoke with the Joint Chiefs before they left NORAD," said Nomzicki from the same cabin, the President's office. "They agree that we must launch a counter-offensive, with a full nuclear strike."

"Over American Soil?" asked Whitmore pointedly.

Shepard stuck his head in the cabin, "Not necessarily."

"What?" asked Whitmore.

Shepard looked to Nimzicki and Grey, "Those cruise missiles you launched earlier, were they from Cruisers or Subs?"

"Subs," said Grey.

"Well, then we target a ship that's not near one of our allies, like Iraq or Iran, we've got a couple SSBNs in the Gulf, don't we?" asked Shepard, inserting himself fully into the conversation, leaning against the wall, and smiling to Constance, forcing David to glare at him in response.

"That's not much better, nuking innocent civilians," said Whitmore.

"Most likely the ship'll be either over a destroyed city, or one that's about be be destroyed," said Shepard. "And we know from the fighters, what survived, that the smaller ships, while not destroyed by the missiles, were deflected by them."

"What good does that do us?" asked Whitmore.

"That means that the shields are more like impenetrable armor, rather than allowing the aliens to fully ignore our attacks. They're still subject to physics, no matter how much they're ignoring it with their hovering and shields," Shepard explained. "Hit the Destroyers with a big enough bang, perhaps under the edge, off-center." He conjured a simple plate with a wave of his hand, setting it to hover in mid-air, and then hit it on the underside, setting it spinning about it's center of mass.

"Flip them over?" asked Whitmore.

"Either flip them or overwhelm whatever inertial dampeners they've got … if they've got them. If we don't flip them like a turtle, they'll be scrambled like an egg," said Shepard.

"It might work," said Nimzicki, nodding slightly. "I don't trust him, but it's a good idea."

"No, no, you're going to use nuclear weapons. You're going to kill them and us at the same time," said David, interjecting for the first time. "You use nukes, and then everyone else who has nukes is going to fire them."

"May I remind you," said Grey over David's rant, "That you are a guest here?"

"Then there's nuclear fallout, haven't you ever heard of a nuclear winter?" continued David.

Shepard kept silent, content that his input wasn't need for the players to play the next part all on their own.

"It's the end of life as we know it," said David. Constance tried to silence him, "Don't you hear what they're talking about? Think about it."

"Sit down and shut up!" shouted Nimzicki. As much as he distrusted Shepard, David flat out annoyed him.

Julius, having heard the argument, and knowing how his David loved to argue about the environment, had advanced up to the more forward cabin. "Hey, hey!" he interjected, "Don't' tell him to shut up! "

The cabin was silent.

"You wouldn't be here were it not for my David," ranted Julius. "You'd all be dead now if it wasn't for my David."

"I helped," interjected Shepard quietly, but Julius continued to rant.

"None of you did anything to prevent this," the older Jew said, pointing around the room, though being careful not to point at his son, his former daughter-in-law, or the man who'd gotten them out of New York.

"There was nothing we could do," said Grey with a shake of his head. "We were totally unprepared for this."

"Ahh, don't give me 'unprepared'," dismissed Julius. The cabin was divided between the Levinsons (and ex-Levinsons); the President, Secretary of Defense, and Head of the Joint Chiefs; and Shepard, a now mute observer.

"Come on Julius," said Constance, trying to stop the rant.

"It was when? Nineteen, what…" began Julius, snapping his fingers to help him remember.

"Forty-seven," interjected Shepard.

"Right, Nineteen forty-seven, yeah, you had that … spaceship," said Julius, to looks of dismay from all but Nimzicki and Shepard. The former expressed worry, while the later expressed unabashed glee.

"Dad, no, dad," David tried to stop his father from embarrassing himself further.

"That thing that you found," continued Julius, as the Present let out an exasperated sigh and sat back down. "In New Mexico."

"Dad!"

"Where was that?"

"Roswell," suggested Shepard.

"Yeah, Roswell, New Mexico," said Julius triumphantly.

"Dad, don't do this," cautioned David.

"Julius, calm down," tried Constance.

"You had the spaceship!" insisted Julius as Grey sat down as well, both he and Whitmore putting their face in their palms. "And you had the bodies. They were all locked up in a bunker!"

"Dad," said David weakly.

"Where was that?" asked Julius, looking from David over one shoulder, and Shepard over the other.

"Area Fifty-One," said Shepard, trying to hide a smile, as he saw Nimzicki practically lose his composure, the complete opposite of the President and General Grey.

"Area fifty-one, right? Area fifty-one!" insisted Julius. "You knew then!" he explained accusingly, "And you did nothing!"

Whitemore raised his hand in objection, standing, "Sir."

"Groom Lake," said Shepard confidently.

"What?" asked Whitmore.

"Groom Lake, Area Fifty-One of the Nevada Test Grounds, Dreamland," said Shepard, speaking up once more. "Home to the development of the F-117 and B-2 stealth aircraft, likely from materials recovered from the apparently radar absorptive alien ships."

Whitemore shook head head, "Regardless of what you may have head in the tabloids…"

"Sir?" asked Nimzicki.

"Al?"

"He may not be … entirely … wrong, either of them," admitted the former head of the National Security Agency.

"What?" asked Whitmore.

"Which part?" asked David.


	7. Chapter 7

**Area 51, Nevada**

It was just after noon on the Third of July, twelve hours after the destruction of thirty-six cities around the world, that Air Force One finally arrived at its destination, Area Fifty-One of the Nevada Test Range, affectionately known to locals as Dreamland, and one of the widest known secret bases of the United States Armed Forces. The above ground facilities were sparse, a handful of large hangers and a scattering of smaller ones, as well as various outbuildings for support.

Dreamland had two purposes, with the above ground facilities used to test top secret military hardware, and had seen the development of the famous U-2, A-12, SR-71, and F-117. Over time the operations of the above ground portion of Dreamland became known by, if not acknowledged to, the general public.

The second purpose of Dreamland was why Air Force One was being taxied to just outside of one of the smaller hangers, sized perfectly for the U-2, but being used as a "random storage" facility.

Leading the gaggle of passengers were three men, escorted by Secret Service and Air Force personnel. In the lead was President Thomas Whitmore, forty-third President of the United States. Behind the Presdient, General Grey, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and Secretary of Defense Nimzicki, walked side by side.

"Mr. President, General," said Air Force Major Mitchell, saluting his Commander-in-Chief and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "Welcome to Area Fifty-One." He dropped the salute, and then turned to escort the group further, "Please follow me."

Major Mitchell then lead the group, to which were added the First Daughter Patricia Whitmore, White House Communications Director Constance Spano, her ex-husband David Levinson, his father Julius Levinson, the time traveler James Shepard, and various members of the White House staff, to the back of the hangar, where after passing through a secure door, they were lead down a hall, which included two jogs to slow the advance of any unauthorized parties, to an elevator, which was surprisingly, but understandably, large.

The trip down was long, and emptied into a lobby that wouldn't be out of place in any military base across the country, if it wasn't nearly three hundred feet below ground.

"I understand you're here to visit the NBTR," said Major Mitchell, acting as guide. He pointed to a placard on the wall, which listed the NBTR initials with an arrow, as well as listing the infirmary and the barracks. "While we have access to the surface, most of the airmen stay in the facility on six month rotations, and are nominally assigned to South Korea during their tours here."

After going through another elevator, this one just as big, Mitchell led them into a red room with lockers in the walls, "We're now twenty-four floors beneath the surface, and … here's our main research facility."

"Let's see it," demanded President Whitmore, walking up to the plexiglass doors just seeing a handful of technicians in coveralls due to the sloped airlock.

"I'm sorry Sir, it's a Clean Room," Major Mitchell tried to explain. "We have to keep it static free, if you'll all go to decontamination…"

"Open the door," demanded Whitmore pointedly, brokering no disagreement.

"Yes Sir," said Mitchell, receiving a direct order from his Commander in Chief. He walked over to a control, and after inserting a smart card from his pocket and inserting a code, the plexiglass doors opened.

"Major," asked Shepard, speaking for the first time since their arrival, "What does NBTR stand for?"

As the group, lead by the President, walked down the ramp towards the soon to be no longer Clean Room, Major Mitchell responded, "Non-terrestiral Biological and Technological Research."

"I'll have to remember that," said Shepard.

"What exactly do you do, Mr. …?" asked Major Mitchell.

Shepard stuck out his hand to the disgruntled officer, "James Shepard, CEO of Cerberus. We're a research think tank based out of Scotland. We did some work with Northrop on the F-23, and in my humble opinion it's what allowed it to win against the YF-22."

"It's a good bird," said Major Mitchell, "Though I'm a Spirit driver myself."

"I'm a helicopter man personally, my sister's the one that pushed us into working with Northrup, though we've done other work with Boeing, such as with the Osprey," admitted Shepard, just before the group passed through the lower sliding doors and into the main research lab.

"My God," commented Whitmore upon seeing the dozens of technicians in white coveralls at tens of workstations that lined the two sides of the long chamber.

Shepard noticed that every workstation had at least one laptop or desktop computer for use by the technicians, and all of them were Macs.

"Why the hell wasn't I told about this?" asked Whitmore.

Nimzicki walked alongside the President, "Two words, Mr. Presdient, 'Plausible Deniability'."

As he reached the middle of the chamber, after a fairly silent walk past the distracted, but still diligent, technicians, Whitemore asked a question, "I don't understand, where does all this come from? How do you get funding for something like this?"

"Well, you don't actually think they spend twenty-thousand dollars on a hammer, thirty-thousand dollars on a toilet seat, do you?" asked Julius. The others looked at Julius as if he either said the most profound or the most insane thing.

Major Mitchel, though, introduced the person who had walked down from the opposite end of the chamber, a ragged looking scientist with a loose tie, wild grey hair, and a day and a half of stubble, "Mr. President, this is Doctor Okun. He's been heading up the research project here for the last fifteen years."

"How do you do?" asked Whitmore, shaking Dr. Okun's hand.

Okun gasped, "Mr. President." He then got excited, "Wow … this … what a pleasure." He looked around, "As you can imagine, they … they don't let us out much."

"I can understand that," said Whtimore.

General Grey cleared his throat.

"I guess you'd like to see the Big Tamale, huh?" asked Okun excitedly. He then nodded, and turned, "Follow me."

As expected, Okun lead them across the chamber, up the airlock ramp on the other side, and to a slanted diamond plate hatch. Okun's assistant entered a code, and rotating yellow lights turned on as the hatch rotated down, revealing a large hangar-like chamber with an alien spaceship located in place of pride on a raised dais, technicians scurrying over and around it.

From the base of the ramp, Shepard could see the various plates that had been used over the last fifty years, almost fifty years exactly now that he thought about it, to repair either damaged or removed pieces of the ship. It looked similar to the Attackers the aliens used, though it was likely specialized as a scout ship due to its previous mission.

"She's a beaut, ain't she?" asked Okun. He then pointed out the plates Shepard had already noticed, "As you can see from the repairs, we've been trying to put her back together since the late sixties."

"Don't tell me you've had this for nearly fifty years and don't know anything about it," said Whitmore, walking closer to the Scout Ship.

"Ah hell no," said Okun, which surprised Shepard, having expected a line similar to that from Captain Hiller once he showed up, rather than Okun. Shepard did noticed a distinct similarity to Brent Spiner in Doctor Okun, just as he had in all of the others to the actors that had played them in the movie from his time, including his brother-in-law who looked a bit like Gary Oldman, but only in the way any actor was cast to look a bit like the character they portrayed. Only one person he'd met had looked exactly like their actor, and she was set to be a rising sixth year at Hogwarts.

"No, no, no, no, we know tons about 'em," continued Okun. He then stepped down to follow the Presdient, "But the neatest stuff, the neatest stuff had only happened in the last few days."

"See, we can't duplicate their type of power, so we'd never been able to experiment. But, since these guys started showing up, all the little … gizmos inside started to turn on," explained Okun. "The last twenty-four hours have been really exciting."

"Exciting?" asked Whitmore harshly. "People are dying out there, I don't think 'exciting' is a word I'd choose to describe it."

"Mr. President?" asked Shepard, still with the bulk of the group at the base of the ramp into the hangar, raising his hand as if a student in school

"What do you want, Mr. Shepard?" snapped the President.

"Remember, they don't get out much, I'm not even sure he knows that the aliens have destroyed seventy-two cities so far," explained Shepard. "I work with scientists, engineers, and other eggheads like Doctor Okun here quite regularly. It's pretty common for them to not realize what's going on around them. He's been running this place for fifteen years, and before yesterday he's only been able to look at things in a non-working state. Then, suddenly, after fifty years of inactivity following the crash, the technology, not just the passive stuff they could, quite literally, scrape off the hull, starts working. He probably hasn't slept since he started his shift yesterday, likely flitting from one project to the next, hoping to see what minor miracle they could discover now that they can finally examine the ship in a fully powered state."

"Oh," said Whitmore.

"Based on what I'm seeing," said David, standing next to one of the engine nacelles of the Scout Ship, or at least, what appeared to be one, "You're hoping to fly this thing, huh?"

Whitmore looked from David to Shepard, and finally back to Okun, "You said you can repair their technology, can you tell us anything useful about them?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Okun, bounding up the steps to the dias, "I mean, they're not all that dissimilar from us."

As Okun explained about the biology of the aliens, Shepard noticed that Whitmore was examining the Scout Ship much like he'd seen hundred and thousands of other pilots examine aircraft, whether on the flight line, in a hangar not unlike this one, or even in a museum. You could ground a pilot, but you couldn't take their head out of the clouds. It was the same with him, something he'd discovered after his absorption of a pilot over a decade before in preparation for the disposal of Snape's body and the alignment of the UK with the EU. He saw it in Harry too, after Winona had taken the then eight-year old up in a Cessna before being given his own broom. While as Shepard he preferred helicopters, he understood the urge to examine a new and interesting aircraft, or in this case, spacecraft.

The only way Okun could get Whitmore away from the Scout Ship was by offering to show him, and by extension the rest of the group, the bodies of the aliens from the Roswell crash. Okun took the group to a side passage off the main research chamber, and to a large round door.

"Give this thing a giant 'X' logo, and it wouldn't look out of place under Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," joked Shepard, receiving a glare from Whitmore, though Julius gave him a chuckle.

"This is …" began Okun, leading the way into the darkened chamber, "This is the Vault." Shepard noticed the medical, or rather xenobiological, experimentation room behind the slanted windows opposite where Okun was headed. "Or, as some of us have come to call it, the Freak Show."

Not even Julius gave Okun a token chuckle, though Okun laughed at his own joke.

A glare from Whitmore got Okun to open the door, which ascended into the ceiling, revealing three cylindrical tanks with preserved aliens floating within.

"Ugh," commented Shepard, "and I thought mermen were ugly."

"Mermen?" asked Julius, "Don't you mean mermaids?"

"No, they're not that bad looking. Merpeople have some of the worst sexual dimorphism of all the sophants native to earth. Nearly as bad as, say, peacocks and peahens, only the mermaids are beautify to lure men to their death, like bait."

"Mermaids?" asked Okun. "I'm showing you aliens, and you're talking of mythological creatures?"

"Not myth, Doctor Okun, merely legend. It's been hundreds of years since the Merpeople secluded themselves from the Mundane World, like Goblins, Centaurs, and Elves alike. While it was at about the same time as the seclusion of the Magical World, wizards and witches, it's merely correlation, not causation."

"Magic?" asked Okun.

"Seems Jimmy here is a wizard," said David. "He's got a magic wand and everything."

"Well, I had a magic wand, until the Secret Service took it away," grumbled Shepard.

"I can only deal with the revelation of one secret at a time, gentleman," said Whitmore. "Right now, I'd like to learn about the aliens that have killed millions of Americans, rather than magic."

"Right, aliens," said Okun, his mind no longer totally on topic, the possibility of magic being real warring with the excitement of showing off the awesome things he knew that the others didn't. In the end, vanity won a temporary victory over inquiry, and he continued. He explained how they were found in a biomechanical suit, explaining upon Shepard's inquisition that they worked something like a combination space suit and strength enhancer. After the suits were removed, though, they seemed not unlike humans or other creatures of earth, though they had no vocal cords, and thus could not speak.

David quipped about sign language but Okun extrapolated to telepathy.

"So, they're possibly magical," said Shepard.

"Magical?" asked Okun.

"There's a form of magic that deals with the mind, two actually, one used to communicate, the other to stop it," summarized Shepard. "While I suppose it might be purely biological, it might also be a natural magical trait."

"Interesting," said Okun. "But, as I was saying, it's likely some sort of telepathy, whether biological or magical in nature."

"So, they're alive, like us," said Whitmore, stepping up to the middle tank. He then looked to Okun, "They're dead, obviously, but how hard are they to kill?"

"Their bodies are just as frail as ours," said Okun. He gestured to the middle tube and the one to his right, "These two died in the crash." He then gestured to the third tube, "This one a few weeks later."

"You just … have to get through their technology," said Okun. "Which is, I'm sorry to say, far more advanced."

Whitmore, though, didn't look as disappointed as Okun had expected him to be. "David," he began, "You unlocked part of their technology. You cracked the code."

"All I did was stumble onto their … signal," said David demurely. "I don't know how … helpful I can be."

"Why don't you show them what you've discovered so far," said Whitmore confidently. "Figure out what they haven't thought of yet. We'll figure out if you're as smart as we all … hope … you are."

As Whitmore stepped down from the tanks, Okun stepped up to David, "What code?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Area 51, Nevada**

Half an hour later Okun was leading a small group of interested parties into the Scout Ship.

"Come on down," said Okun, having descended the ladder that had been installed decades previous. "Watch you step," he said, as David followed him down. Behind David was Shepard, who practically jumped down, eager to see the alien vessel up close.

Unlike human vessels, but understandable considering the bio-mechanical suits the aliens wore, the inside of the Scout Ship had a very organic and biological feel, littered with curved surfaces, even the floor wasn't entirely flat.

Okun gestured to the two matte black assemblies that hung from the ceiling near the rear of the Scout Ship's main compartment, "Obviously the ship was designed to seat three." He then shrugged a bit, as the assemblies didn't appear to have any sort of seat, "Though how they sat on them, I don't know."

He then lead David and Shepard to the front of the compartment, where the pilot's "seat" hung from the ceiling in front of a control console, the surfaces awash with the familiar descending seemingly random pattern that David had decoded from the alien signal.

"You see these gizmos flashing?" asked Okun, pointing to the lit screens. "We've been working around the clock, trying to get a fix on all this crap. Some stuff we figured out right away." He gestured to a control cluster to the right of the main control console, "This, we're pretty sure, is the life support system." Okun then coughed slightly, point in to another bit of alien grebble.

"Doctor?" asked Shepard.

"What?" asked Okun, stopping his explanation.

"That pattern looks familiar," said Shepard, pointing to the green and black screens in the center of the control console.

"It does," said David, setting his laptop bag down and removing his PowerBook from within. He opened it and showed the still running countdown detection program. "See this pattern here," he said, pointing first to the screens on the Scout Ship, and then to the similar one on his laptop's, "They're repeating sequentially, just like the countdown signal." He showed the two screen side by side to Okun, "They're using the frequency for computer communications. It's how they're coordination their ships."

"Huh?" said Okun, looking from the laptop to the control console screens and back. "You know, you're really starting to make us look bad."

"So, how does it fly?" asked Shepard, wondering how long it would be before Okun was called away for some important thing or another.

"Oh, these," said Okun, flipping a switch, and causing the two control devices to pop out and unfold, "Are used to control the craft."

Shepard gestured, "May I?"

Okun looked confused.

"I'm a pilot," explained Shepard. "While I'm not exactly an expert in flying alien spaceships, I'd like to get a close look at how this one is controlled. Never know when I might need to do so." He then gestured out the front windows, at the obvious hatch in the wall above the entrance ramp to the hangar, "A feeling I'm sure is not unique here."

"Right, right," said Okun, stepping back.

Shepard stepped in, and tentatively sat on the edge of the seat assembly, and grabbed the two control sticks.

"We know enough to have it in standby mode," explained Okun. "It'll hover without the supports now that it's got power, but those controls won't work."

"You can lock out the controls?" asked Shepard.

"Yeah, we've actually got a fairly good understanding of their computer system, despite not being able to power it up. Seems my predecessor studied enough of the systems to use them to influence our own computers, likely in an effort to get terrestrial computers to a point where they can interface with the alien ones. It's not perfect, but we've got pretty much the entire command code for all of the controls here in the cockpit accessible from our own computers," explained Okun. He then gestured to David's laptop, "If I gave him the drivers, he could likely turn all of it on and off with that."

"Good to know," said Shepard.

Just then a technician stuck his head down into the Scout Ship, "They got one! They got one alive!"

"Jesus," said Okun. He then turned to David and Shepard, "You'll be okay by yourselves … Dave, Jimmy?"

"What, you think I'm going to stay here with a live alien incoming?" asked Shepard.

"I'll be fine," said David with a dismissive wave, as both Okun and Shepard rushed out of the Scout Ship.

Just before Okun got up the ladder he stopped, and shouted back at David, "Don't touch anything."

"Why is everybody telling me not to touch anything?" asked David, remembering the previous evening and the meeting in the Oval Office. He then, impetuously, patted the top of the control console before him. He then noticed the fifty years worth of dust, and who knows what from before the crash, that had transferred to his hand.

A few minutes later Okun and Shepard, followed by a bunch of medical technicians, rushed out of the elevator, down the hall, and out into the disguised hangar full of junk, pushing a gurney.

"Right here," said Captain Hiller from the bed of the pickup, "I've got it in the back of the pickup."

Okun and Shepard watched at the medical techs and soldiers unloaded the parachute wrapped alien in the bio-mechanical suit from the back of the pickup. While Okun was looking forward to examining the alien with modern medical technology, Shepard was more interested in what the alien knew. While he was sure that, given the impetus, Hiller would be quite capable as a pilot of the Scout Ship to deliver David's inevitable virus to the Mothership, Shepard wanted to fly the mission, and sucking out the alien's soul seemed like the best way to go about getting to that point, short of killing Hiller.

Unfortunately, Shepard was distracted when Russell Casse, who's RV had followed Hiller into Area 51, and his plea for help for his son, "I need a doctor."

Shepard looked up from the parachute enveloped aline bio-mechanical suit, "What?"

"I need a doctor, my son is sick," said Casse.

"I'm not exactly a doctor, but I think I can help," said Shepard. He then turned to Okun and demanded, "Promise me I get to be a part of the examination."

"What?" asked Okun, quiding the airmen to pull the alien onto the gurney.

"These aliens might be magical, and I'm the only magical expert here, so, promise me. I get to be a part of the examination," explained Shepard quickly.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll get your part," said Okun distractedly.

"I'll hold you to it," said Shepard. He then turned back to Casse, smoothed his jacket, and gestured to the RV, "Lead on, McDuff."

"It's Casse, Russell Casse," the older man said, and lead Shepard into his RV. "It's my son, he's sick, and after the destruction of LA, we kind of lost his medicine," explained Casse.

The pair climbed into the RV. "Okay, now, I have to warn you, this won't seem normal," said Shepard, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"I survived an alien abduction a decade ago, and the destruction of LA, I think I can handle something abnormal," said Casse.

Shepard summoned a wand from the Demense, though it appeared to the others as if he came from thin air. He then pointed it at Russell and said, pointedly, "If you get hysterical, I'm stunning you." He then left a shocked Russell and Miguel at the front of the RV and proceeded to the back, where Alicia Casse was administering to Troy, who had a fever.

Shepard cast a basic diagnostic spell, "Okay, this is something I can deal with." He then cast another charm, one that boosted the boys immune system. He then extracted a plastic vial from one of his jacket pockets, examined the label on it, shook it, and then presented it to the girl, Alicia. "This is a potion, think of it as a special kind of medicine. In about half an hour, your brother … he's your brother right?"

Alicia nodded.

"Okay, in half an hour, he's going to wake up. When he does, I need you to give him this potion. It tastes like strawberries, so it shouldn't be a problem. After he takes it, he's going to be sleepy, let him sleep. If he's not fine by the morning, come find me, and I'll see what else it wrong," explained Shepard.

"So, it's a cure?" asked Casse.

"There's not cure for diabetes," insisted Miguel.

"Yes, and no," said Shepard, standing up. "There is no medical cure for diabetes, at least not yet. This cure, though, isn't medical, it's magical."

"So, you just happened to carry a cure for diabetes with you?" asked Miguel.

"You're skeptical, that's good," said Shepard. "But yeah, I carry a whole bunch of potions with me. While the potions are inside the vials, they don't age, which means I can keep a lot of them with me. I've got potions for damn near anything and everything. When you've got a niece and nephew and a couple hundred kids, you tend to plan ahead."

"Wait, a couple hundred kids?" asked Miguel, Russell having dropped into the chair behind him, spent from the stress of that last day.

"Think of it as sort of an experiment," said Shepard. "To see if magic is limited by numbers or just genetics. It's genetics, and since I'm magical and rich, I thought I'd make a few hundred more witches and wizards, increase the gene pool a bit."

"Wait, witches and wizards?" asked Miguel.

"Magic is real," said Shepard with a dismissive wave of his wand. "How hard is that to accept once you've accepted that aliens are real?" he asked, echoing his question to the Levinsons earlier.

"I guess, well, I've seen aliens, I've not seen magic before today," admitted Miguel.

Shepard waved his wand again, and with a silent spell, cleaned and organized the RV. He then pointed his wand at a book on the small table, turning it successively into a rabbit, a tea kettle, a miniature flying broom, and then returning it to a book. A final spell, this time spoken with the words "expecto patronum", summoned an ethereal glowing dragon, which flew around the confines of the RV, before settling on Shepard's shoulder, before fading into nothingness.

"See, magic," said Shepard.

"That … was … awesome!" said Miguel.

"Let's a good reaction," said Shepard with a smile. He then tucked the wand into one of the pockets of his jacket, tucked his thumbs under the lapels of his jacket, and look smug, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have an alien to go biopsy."

"Biopsy?" asked Alicia, still crouched next to her brother. "Don't' you mean autopsy?"

Shepard shook his head, "Nah, it's only an alien autopsy if it's dead. That lovely space invader is quite alive, though if I'm not quick, I might miss its untimely demise." And with that, he disapparated, leaving a stunned, or unconscious, Casse family behind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Area 51, Nevada**

"Mr. Shepard?" asked Major Mitchell in the preparation room outside of the medical examination room.

"Yes?" asked Shepard, scrubbing his forearms with an iodine soap.

"There's a helicopter outside of The Box requesting permission to land at Area Fifty-One," said Mitchell.

"Um, and you came to me why?" asked Shepard.

"It's going by the call sign 'Cerberus Two'," said Mitchell. "The President requested that I ask you to clarify."

"That would be my sister," said Shepard, a smile on his face. While he didn't know what the next day would hold, the temporal duplicate that was Winona Black heavily implied that he'd survive to play her part. "She's likely bringing some supplies and expert techno-thaumaturgical advice. I noticed how little defense Dreamland had when we arrived, not even a SAM site, at least not a visible one, and a mere squadron of Hornets. I sent her a message when we landed, just before we got off of Air Force One, asking her, if she could, to bring some. That's be both defensive weaponry and expert advice."

"But we're a secret facility," insisted Mitchell.

"A secret facility that I knew about, and that a few hundred RVs from California just drove up to. Plus, if we mess with that Scout Ship down there, we might just alert them to the fact that we're here with it. It might not, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. I've survived nearly forty-five years on this rock, I'd like to go for another hundred more before I'm through," explained Shepard.

"Okay … I'll inform the President," said Mitchell, who left Shepard to his pre-biopsy cleaning.

Five minutes later, and Shepard joined Okun and a pair of Area Fifty-One medical technicians, preparing to open the bio-mechanical suit. While the others wore stereotypical blue gowns and caps, aside from Okun abstaining from the cap, Shepard wore a darker blue medical gown, with brown pinstripes, the opposite pattern of the suit he'd been wearing since meeting David outside of new destroyed cable building a day before. It had, of course, been conjured just for this occasion. While potions were kept in the various expanded pockets, a bit of conjuration and transmutation was all he needed for his Doctor's Scrubs.

"Alright, life support monitors recording," declared Okun.

"So, if we fuck up, it'll all be on tape," said one of the medical technicians.

"Come on, come on, come on," insisted Okun impatiently. "Let's get this bio-mechanical suit off him."

The trio of light blue gowns huddled around the head, while Shepard took to patrolling around the exterior of the cluster of medical equipment, wand, another one summoned from the Demense, held lightly in hand.

"Are you planning on helping?" asked Okun to Shepard.

"I've put a basic mind protection ward in place," Shepard explained. "Should dampen any telepathy, magical or otherwise, though as long as it stays unconscious, we should be fine."

"And if it wakes up?" asked a technician.

"I stun it, and if that doesn't work, I'll kill it," said Shepard, lying. He had no plans on stunning the alien, and a couple of plans on how to kill it, most of which involved petrifying it and then removing its soul.

And he knew it had a soul, as a lich, nobodez, even in the body of Shepard, could practically taste the souls in the room. All of the humans were mundane, not a spark of magic in them, but the alien, it was different, even more different than goblins, giants, or werewolves. Even more different than the mockery of a soul that vampires had, or the pale shadow that made up ghosts. No, while the alien did have a soul, it was new and different, and nobodez just wanted an excuse to taste it.

"Whatever," said Okun. He turned back to the operation, "Can I get a spreader in here?"

The procedure proceeded apace with what Shepard expected. The headpiece of the suit snapped open unexpectedly, causing the others to jump back, and for Shepard to prepare. A bubble-headed charm protected him from the smell. It also allowed him to notice the slight twitching of one of the tentacles.

As Okun pulled back the last layer of the suit, revealing the alien face, Shepard got anxious, knowing what was to come.

"The arm is moving," said one of the technicians, taking a step back from the table.

Shepard brought up his wand, but didn't have a clear line of sight on the alien, not wanting to risk hitting the suit and then having to re-cast the spell. Or, at least appearing to think so.

Then, the alien's eyes opened, and all hell broke loose. The alien snaped the restraints, and the tentacles from its back of the suit begin to really whip around. Shepard, furthest away, was able to keep out of the fray, though was still unable to target the alien itself. First one technician got hit, slammed across the room, and then another, leaving only Okun and Shepard.

Okun stepped back, though due to the ward, wasn't being mentally assaulted by the alien's telepathy.

"Come at me," said Shepard, standing between he alien in the suit and the glass wall into the Vault. He then sent a crimson stunner at the alien, impacting the suit, and as expected, not affecting the alien itself, even the tentacles kept flailing.

The alien turned to face Shepard, turning away from Okun. Shepard could feel the telepathy slam into his occlumency barriers, but not go further.

Just as that happened, the President, Major Mitchell, and Secretary Nimzicki ented the Vault, the observation windows allowing them to see into the room with the alien and Shepard.

Shepard sent a petrification spell at the alien, this time hitting the grey body, and the bio-mechanical suit stoped, standing at its full height in the middle of the room.

"My name is James Tiberius Shepard, you invaded my planet" said Shepard, walking confidently up to the alien. He then reached out, and touched the alien's exposed skin,"Prepare to die".

Shepard nearly passed out from absorbing the alien's soul, the experience radically different from any of the souls he'd devoured so far. All of them had been human, of one sort or another, but this one truly was alien, and as the arcane magic that allowed the lich to absorb the souls of others encountered the first new thing it's encountered, even more new and different than the first soul of Alex Smith nearly sixteen years ago, Shepard fell to his knees, his wand, clutched lightly in the hand he'd not touched the alien with, falling to the floor and rolling away.

Shepard was in a haze, and barely noticed the sound of Major Mitchell shooting through the glass, or jumping down to the floor. He did, though, as he fell over, unconscious, notice the looks on the President and Nimzicki. Whitmore was surprised, but Nimzicki looked satisfied.


	10. Chapter 10

**Area 51, Nevada**

"Mrs. Black?" asked the Air Force Officer in his dress uniform, as the squad of airmen aimed their assault rifles at the helicopter.

Winona stepped out of the helicopter, the same one that had ferried David and Julius to Washington DC the day before. She'd been quite active since returning to her husband at Skyfall while her "brother" had worked his "magic" here in the US. After making sure her extended family was safe, she'd begun the process of getting ready for this moment. While she didn't know exactly what was going to happen, she did know when she needed to arrive, and what she needed to bring with her, and more importantly, whom she needed to bring with her. While the helicopter, a derivative of the UH-60 Black Hawk affectionately termed the Hippogriff by the employees and interns at Cerberus, could carry over a dozen people, today it had carried merely half that, including the pilot.

"I'm Winona Black," she said, looking at the rifles of the airmen. "Though, I'm not sure why I warrant such an auspicious greeting …" She then noticed the golden oak leaf and the officer's name plate, "Major Mitchell."

"Ma'am, you've just landed a civilian helicopter on one of the most secret facilities the United States has," explained Mitchell. "Just be glad the President has instructed us that you're not to be harmed."

Another passenger left the helicopter, who wrapped his arm about Winona's waist. "Thank you Major," said Sirius.

"And you are, Sir?" asked Mitchell.

"Sirius Black," he said. "I'd offer to shake you hand, but I get the feeling that I'm not exactly wanted here."

"You're all not exactly wanted here, but then, we're in the middle of an alien invasion, and they're not wanted here even more, so we're making allowances," said Mitchell. "Mrs. Black, I've been instructed to bring you inside the facility. There's been an incident, and the President and Secretary of Defense would like your explanation."

"My explanation?" asked Winona.

"What'd Jimmy do this time?" asked Sirius.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," said Mitchell. "If you'll accompany me, ma'am?"

"You think I'm going to let my wife go into your secret facility without me?" asked Sirius.

"Sir, until you've been vetted, you're not even allowed to be where you're standing right now," said Mitchell with a glare. "Im making an allowance because your brother-in-law saved the President's life. But, the generosity of the US Government, and particularly, the US Air Force, only extends so far. As of now, I'm to escort your wife into the facility to meet with the President, Secretary of Defense, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the head of this facility. Your pilot will be allowed to finalize the landing of your aircraft, but then the lot of you will be kept here until such time as a decision has been made as to your disposition."

Sirius looked at the gaggle of RVs that sat not two hundred meters away, "I assume we'll have as much freedom as the other unauthorized guests?"

Mitchell looked over himself, then looked back, "They brought an alien corpse with them, so they're excused. Plus, they're citizens, not foreign nationals."

Sirius smirked, "Well, I'll have you know I have joint citizenship, thanks to my lovely wife here." He gave Winona another one-armed hug. "Harry, Sue, Dora, and Hermione are all Brits, but I'm naturalized. Probably know more about how your government works than most of those campers in their caravans."

"Be that as it may, you, your aircraft, and your passengers, are to remain here, under guard, until a decision has been made. I'll escort your wife, and hopefully, for your sake, she'll be able to convince my superiors to be lenient."

Winona turned to Sirius and said softly, "Siri, just stay here. I'll take care of things. Have Dora and Hermione start unloading, but be ready to take off on a moment's notice."

Sirius furrowed his brow, "Why?"

"If there's an alien corpse here, then likely there's an alien ship out there," she said, gesturing out past the mountains that bracketed the secret airbase. "If you can figure out where, then that'd give us an advantage."

"And advantage against whom?" asked Sirius.

"The aliens, hopefully, but if worst comes to worst, it'll allow you and everyone else an excuse to get to safety," explained Winona. She then gave Sirius a peck on the lips, and stepped away. "Stay safe Siri. I've got to go meet the President." She then gestured at her outfit, similar in style to the one she'd worn when she'd first met Sirius, though the colors were different, "Think I'm dressed well enough for the President?"

"Winnie, if that was good enough for Her Majesty, it'd good enough for the President of the United States, might even be too good for him," said Sirius with a smirk. He then waved her away, "Go, I'll take care of things here."

Winona turned, and her heels clacked lightly on the concrete as she cross to Major Mitchell, "Lead on Major."

Surprisingly, all of the airmen followed Mitchell and Winona back to the hangar, leaving Sirius alone outside the Cerberus helicopter.

"Well, that's odd," he said, then shrugged. "Let's get to work," he said, turning and looking into the helicopter. The three women in the passenger compartment began to unload the crates, making sure to match their serial numbers against an inventory sheet. Everything here was both expensive and custom made, and while it was brought to defend against the aliens, it wouldn't do to have things lost due to negligence. It could mean the difference between life and death later.

Ten minutes after Winona was escorted away, a dark-skinned pilot, still in his flight suit, jogged up to the helicopter.

"Can we help you with anything?" asked Sirius, who was sitting not he edge of the Hippogriff's sliding door.

"Perhaps," said the pilot. "I'm Captain Steven Hiller, United States Marine Corps."

"What can we help you with, Captain Hiller?" asked Sirius. Behind him a pink haired woman peeked out of the passenger compartment.

"I was wondering if I'd be able to get a lift?" asked Hiller.

"A lift where, and why us?" asked Sirius, standing.

"I need to get to El Toro, it's a Marine Corps Air Station, it's outside of LA," said Hiller.

"You are aware that LA got hit by those aliens, right?" asked Sirius.

"I flew against them this morning, after the cruise missiles didn't to shit against their City Destroyer," spat Hiller. "Downed one of their Attackers somewhere between here and Twenty-Nine Palms."

Sirius looked interested, "So, you're the one who brought in the alien then."

"Yeah," said Hiller with a cocky smirk.

"Well, We can get you out to El Toro, though you'll have to give my godson directions," said Sirus. "Though, why're you heading out there anyway? I mean, if it's an airbase, or air station, or whatever, shouldn't you superiors be able to arrange some transport for you, even if it's the middle of a war?"

"It got hit this morning, probably after we tussled with their Attackers in retaliation, though they've been hitting pretty much every military installation between their targets anyway," explained HIller.

"If it got hit, then why go?" asked Sirius.

"My girl, I told her to meet me there yesterday, before the aliens hit. If she's lucky, she got out of LA in time, but since she wasn't there before we took off … I'm worried. Nearly took off with a Huey before I saw this Black Hawk you've got here, and thought, why get in trouble for AWOL and stealing Air Force property, when I can get it for AWOL instead?" joked HIller.

"Well, we can get you to El Toro, even pick up some people if they're there, but it'll cost you," said Sirus.

"What?" asked Hiller.

"We've got to pick up that Attacker you shot down on the way back," said Sirius.

"Why?" asked Hiller. "Not that I wouldn't be willing, but why pick one up?"

Sirius pointed to the gold and silver symbol on the side of the helicopter, "My wife, and in fact, everyone here aside from myself, works for, or interns with at least, Cerberus. It's a think tank, though my brother-in-law's got fingers in pretty much everything. You know the Space Shuttle?"

Hiller nodded, "Almost got to be a pilot."

"Ah, then you'll know about the boosters then. I don't understand it myself, but apparently the original design was faulty, but Jimmy, he's my brother-in-law … saved the President I might add … but Jimmy, in the early eighties, right after he got me out of Azkaban, he invested in the company that made them. Owns practically half of it himself, or rather, he did before selling the shares to Cerberus, but he made sure the boosters were safer, so that when they got cold, they wouldn't explode. Saw a video of the tests myself, if that had happened on takeoff, it'd have destroyed the shuttle. That's the kind of stuff Cerberus does. Go in, make things better, pushes things forward, bits and pieces here and there. I think they even helped design the Mars rovers, not that anyone cares with the aliens or anything, but when they land tomorrow, they'll do great things because of the batteries that one of the companies Cerberus owns is better than it would have been otherwise."

"Oh, I remember now, you guys helped Northrup get the ATF win," said Hiller. "Nice bird, though I'm looking forward to the JSF competition myself."

"Well, enough of that, come on, if we're going to sneak out of here, we best do it soon," said Sirius, gesturing for Hiller to come closer."

Hiller looked around at the boxes stacked just outside of the rotor wash area, "You planned on leaving, didn't you?"

"Not planned, exactly, but it was a contingency," said Sirius. He then shouted into the helicopter, "Harry, pop the door, you're getting a navigator."

As Hiller strapped into the co-pilot seat of the Hippogriff, and Sirius slid, the door shut, he looked around. "Wow, aren't you a little young?"

Sirius, looked from Hiller to Harry, and then to his cousin and the pair of rising Seventh years on the passenger compartment, "Well, yeah, he's a bit young, but he's a natural in the air. Best flyer I've ever seen."

"Well, once we get through with this, we'll see about showing you someone better. I out-flew one of the alien Attackers, one of the few that have, I'm sure I can give junior here a run for his money," said Hiller. He then noticed that the rotors were already spinning, but he'd not head the engine start, "It's quiet."

"Special stealth systems," explained a bushy haired brunette. "I'm Hermione Granger, techno-thaumaturge with Cerberus," she said, extending her hand to the American Marine.

"Captain Steven Hiller, USMC, though once they hear about this I might be looking for a job," said Hiller.

"Well, call us, we're always looking for good men and women," said Hermione.

"Already recruiting Hermione?" asked Harry as the rotors got up to speed.

"Never too early," she replied.

"I never asked, but isn't here a danger just taking off?" asked Hiller.

"Nah, they won't even notice we're gone," said Harry with a smirk. "I'm Harry, by the way," he said. "I'd shake your hand, but I'm kind of busy."

"More of those stealth systems?" asked Hiller.

Hermione smiled uncomfortably, "Yeah."

Hiller gestured to the pink and red haired women seated beside Hermione, "Well, as long as we're doing introductions, might as well finish up."

"I'm Sue, Sue Bones," said the redhead. Like everyone else except for Sirius, she was wearing a fairly utilitarian jumpsuit, with a white a black color scheme and the Cerberus logo above her heart and on both shoulders. "I'm an intern with Cerberus, but that's mainly because Harry wanted me along. I'm actually planning on going into law enforcement like my aunt."

Hiller tried not to stare at the seventeen year-old's prominent chest, and instead looked to the woman on the other side of Hermione, interested by her pink hair.

"I'm Tonks, though you can call me Dora if you want, everyone else does," she said. "I'm with Cerberus Security, though only for the duration, since I usually work for Madam Bones, Sue here's aunt."

"So, what are a bunch of Brits doing at a secret American military base?" asked Hiller as Harry lifted the helicopter off the ground.

"My wife," explained Sirius, "She brought us along, said that we needed to be here. Heck, only Hermione and Harry worked for Cerberus before yesterday. I came because Winnie came, and Sue came before she wasn't about to let Harry go off on another adventure of his without her, they're engaged by the way, and Dora was asked by her boss to look after Sue."

"Okay, but why here?" asked Hiller.

"Because we needed to be here, or so Winnie claimed. I can't really tell you more than that, it's against the law," explained Sirius. "Secrecy and all that rot."


	11. Chapter 11

**Area 51, Nevada**

"If you'll just go there here, Mrs. Black," instructed Major Mitchell, gesturing through a doorway off of one of the copious anonymous halls dug into the rock beneath Groom Lake.

Winona, knowing that she'd likely survive anything aside from the heat death of the universe or a black hole, smiled at the Major and entered the room calmly.

The room was white, with a pair of glowing florescent panels in the dropped ceiling above. Aside from a single institutional steel chair in the corner, the room contained only a pair of women in bog standard black suits with white blouses and ties, a brunette on the right, and a blonde on the left. Winona could tell both were armed with concealed carry holsters, and the clear plastic coil from their radio earpieces was nearly hidden by their short hair.

"Um, this doesn't look like a meeting with the President and his Cabinet," said Winona, turning around.

Mitchell stood in the doorway, and his armed airmen were visible behind him, "Mrs. Black, after what your brother did on-board Air First One, we're making sure that you're not carrying anything dangerous into your meeting with the President."

"Define 'dangerous' for me, if you please?" asked Winona.

"Anything magical, anything that's a weapon, anything that could be used as a weapon," said Mitchell.

Raising an eyebrow, Winona nodded slowly, then turned back to the two Secret Service agents.

"That will be all for now, Major," said the blonde.

"As you wish," said Mitchell, and Winona could hear the door close and latch with a click.

"So, everything magical?" asked Winona for confirmation.

"Yes ma'am," said the brunette.

"You got anything I can wear?" asked Winona.

"Wear, ma'am?" asked the blonde.

"You said everything magical has to go. Well, then I'm going to need some new clothes. Underwear too, if you please. I can cast some re-sizing charms if I need to," said Winona, slipping off her knee-length coat, which doubled as a robe when in more conservative magical company.

"Everything?" asked the brunette.

"I assume that since the Major mentioned magic, I can speak freely about it?" asked Winona.

"We're both witches if that's what you mean," said the blonde. "Though the President's temporarily halted enforcement of the Statute for the duration."

"Good, then I'll tell you two the truth. Everything I'm wearing is magical, even my underwear. Featherweight charms, cushioning charms, auto-sizing charms, expansion charms, imperturbable enchantments, cleaning charms, and a whole slew of overlapping defensive enchantments. I won't even go into the number of wands, weapons, and holdouts I've got," Winona explained, as she tossed her coat at the chair. As it flew through the air, it folded itself, and landed in a needly folded package on the chair. "Oh, and did I mention the self-folding charms as well?"

The blonde pulled out a wand, and then, with a few flicks and some mumbled latin, a light blue tunic and a pair of loose pants were conjured. Another few spells and some slippers, panties, and a bra joined them.

"Good, do either of you know any mannequin charms?" asked Winona.

"That'd be me," said the brunette, who conjured a nondescript mannequin. She then cast another spell, the wand motion connecting Winona to the mannequin with a faint and short-live magical conduit. As the conduit snapped, the mannequin was suddenly shaped exactly as Winona was.

"Impressive, both of you," said Winona. "I've give you both House points were you my students at Hogwarts."

"You teach at Hogwarts?" asked the blonde, surprised.

"I'm the Professor of Mundane Studies there," replied Winona.

"Ah, so you're why Britain is less of a laughing stock," said the brunette with a smirk. She then cast a dressing charm, and the mannequin was dressed in the conjured clothes. A sizing charm made them fit, if not exactly flatter.

Winona stepped over, but the blonde stopped her, "Sorry, can't have you messing with it. I assume a switching charm is fine?"

Winona stepped back, and nodded. She wasn't really worried, as she could either summon replacements from the Demesne if need be, or if she really wanted to impress, just preform the switching spell from wherever the meeting was.

With a mumbled spell from the blonde Winona was no longer wearing her bespoke outfit, but instead was wearing a set of conjured scrubs, scratchy if supportive underwear, and a pair of simple slippers. Winona sighed, "So, shall we? I'd rather not make the President wait."

The blonde kept her wand ready while the brunette stepped around Winona and knocked in a precise sequence on the door, which Mitchell then opened.

"Interesting," he said, before stepping aside and gesturing for Winona to step out. "This way Mrs. Black, let's not keep the President waiting any longer."

Winona followed Mitchell, and preformed a quick wantless switching charm before the door closed, switching into her old underwear, as well as gaining her wedding ring, which in addition to having a permanently disguised Resurrection Stone in place of the diamond, had a transfigured Elder Wand (achieved via temporal shenanigans) at its core. The True Cloak of Invisibility was in an expanded pocket of her knickers, just in case. It was never the wrong time to be the Mistress of Death. That she was sure Shepard also carried the Hallows, the Stone and Wand disguised not as a wedding band but instead a Class Ring (Lakewood High School class of '02), and the Cloak hidden in a similarly expanded pocket in his boxer-briefs, making him the Master of Death.

Of course, the Deathly Hallows weren't the only holdouts that Winona and Shepard carried even in their underwear, just the most famous.

And so it was that Winona Black was introduced to the President of the United States, the Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and the Head of the NBTR.

"Ah, the infamous Mrs. Winona Black," said Nimzicki with a glare.

"Did I do anything to you Mr. Secretary? Did I kick your dog or something that I don't remember?" asked Winona.

"Your brother told us quite the tale when we cornered him about his whereabouts prior to the mid-eighties," said Nimzicki. "That makes you quite infamous in my book."

"Ah, so …" said Winona. This little factoid hadn't been given to her by her past self, though he probably should have.

"Time Travel Mrs. Black?" asked the President.

"Well, time travel is quite easy," said Winona. "I'd show you my Time Turner, but you took away all my toys." She gestured to the light blue scrubs she wore.

"Time Turner?" asked Okun.

"It's a magical time travel device," said Winona. "Depending on how it's made, you can travel anywhere from an hour to two to a week or so back in time."

"You could warn us about the invasion?" asked the President. "Save millions of lives."

Winona shook her head, "That's not how it works. You see, magical time travel, as much as I've discovered at least, and as head of Cerberus' research division I've done a lot of research into the matter, considering my brother's and my origin, is consistent. In that, anything that happened, happened."

"What?" asked Nimzicki.

"Causality is maintained?" asked Okun.

Winona nodded, "And paradoxes are impossible. As long as you knew something happened, or observed it in any way, or even were affected by it tangentially, then you can't change the past. In fact, it's actually your emergence from time travel that causes you to travel backwards in time in the first place. From a certain point of view."

"I thought you and your brother claimed to be time travelers," said the President.

"From a parallel timeline," said Winona. "Similar in many ways, but not the same. Otherwise we'd not be having this conversation."

"And why is that, Mrs. Black?"

"Because you'd be a fictional character in a disaster movie," said Winona bluntly.

The room was silent.

"We should have realized when Clinton lost the election in ninety-two, and then you showed up after the Gulf War was over. I, we, thought it was merely the ASB that sent us back in time messing with us, and in fact, that's exactly what it was, only more than we suspected until the Destroyers appeared over London," explained Winona.

"Fictional?" asked Nimzicki.

"In my initial timeline, yes, quite fictional," said Winona. "But that's neither here nor there."

"So, do you know how to defeat them?" asked the President.

"Why do you think Jimmy made sure to bring David here?" asked Winona. "He's the key."

"So, that explains a lot, but can it explain this?" asked Nimzicki. He then pointed to a TV, and with a press of a button, the video played, revealing a CCTV recording of Shepard's encounter with the alien.

"Well, that's one of the gifts we have," said Winona.

" 'We'?" asked the President.

"Yes, 'We', it's part of what make us Shepards special, though I hope it's only because of the interaction of the Shepard and Skrobanek bloodlines, and not something either his or my own children will inherit," explained Winona by the seat of her pants.

"What was that?" asked Okun.

"That was Jimmy sucking out the alien's soul and absorbing it," said Winona nonchalantly.

"Soul?" asked Grey, speaking for the first time.

"The soul is quite real gentleman, have your Department of Magic look up horruxes for you if you're unsure. Or dementors really, those are more common," said Winona. "While the mundane world debates the reality of the soul, the magical one has known of its existence, and its malleability, for a long time. And no, it's not something special that only magicals have. Dolphins, the great apes, the tauroids, we all have them."

"Tauroids?" asked Okun.

"Centaurs and Sphinxes are the most common, though any of the standard 'half-man/half-beast' myths have some sort of basis in reality. They're hexapods, usually two arms and four legs, though many of the ones common to the Indian Subcontinent have four arms and two legs instead. I think dragons might be of a similar biological history, though they do not have souls," explained Winona. She was tempted to use her magic to provide illustrations, as she commonly did in her classroom, but as she claimed to have left anything magical behind, and it wasn't wise to advertise the ability to use wandless magic, she refrained.

"Sphinx are real?" asked Okun amazed.

"So, what did your brother gain by extracting the alien's soul?" asked Grey, wanting to move things forward.

"Well, aside from killing something that looked to be quite dangerous?" asked Winona. "The process allows us to gain memories, experiences, and for beings with magic, a bit of that as well."

"So, you know souls exist, and yet you admit to … what was it you said … 'absorbing' them?" asked the President. "What's to prevent me from throwing the two of your into the deepest hole in the ground and forgetting about you?"

"Nothing, though, in our defense, most of them were quite evil, while the others were … not fully aware of the extent of what we offered," said Winona.

"And your brother will collaborate all of this?" asked Nimzicki.

"Likely not, he'll likely tell some story about being an undead monster or some such," said Winona with a dismissive wave of her hand. "He was always one for theatrics. Take his little speech before killing the alien, right out of Princess Bride. He drops pop culture references like they were going out of style. He wants to be the coolest person in the room, and wants everyone to know he is."

"And you?" asked the President.

"I know that I am likely one of the most powerful witches on the planet, if not THE most powerful. I'm also content teaching and raising my family. My children are set to attend Hogwarts at the beginning of September, and in two years I'll take a short leave of absence from Hogworts, likely to work on the alien technology once it's salvaged. Then, I'll either return to Hogwarts for a few more years until most of nieces and nephews are done, or devote all of my time to research with Cerberus. The alien technology is quite amazing, and once we discover how their power systems work, we'll finally be heading out into space for real."

"You assume we can win?" asked Grey.

"I know we can win, and as soon as David gets his inspiration, which I'm sure he'll receive despite the presence of my brother and I, if not because of it, we'll have half of the weapon we'll need to destroy the aliens," said Winona.

"Only half?" asked Nimzicki.

"Doctor Okun here has been studying the other half for the past fifteen years," said Winona.

"The Scout Ship?" asked Okun.

"In one," said Winona. "We, and I don't necessarily mean my brother and I, though now that he's absorbed the alien pilot's soul he's an expert pilot, but I mean us collectively. Once we fly up to the Mothership, it's simply a matter of deploying the weapon, and then getting the alien Mothership into a stable orbit."

"Stable?" asked Nimzicki. "Seems pretty stable already."

"Mr. Secretary, that Mothership masses a quarter that of the Moon. It's already disrupted the Earth-Moon system, and the longer it hangs around, the worse that disruptions will be. If we wait too long getting it somewhere else, then we could lose more people to the environmental side effects of the Mothership than to the destruction wrought by the Destroyers. We leave it up there permanently, and it's the end of life as we know it here on Earth."

"So, what do we do now?" asked the President.

"You do what you would have done had Jimmy or I not been here. You play your parts. I expect you've got plans for nukes?" asked Winona.

"Will it work?" asked Grey.

"Attacking it head on?" asked Winona. She shook her head, "No, whatever applied phlebotinum they're using to defy gravity and generate shields, and not necessarily the same thing does both. Whatever it is, it'll protect their ships from most of the effects of a nuke. Hit the side, and it'll just destroy whatever's beneath it."

"The side?" asked the President.

Winona smiled and tapped the side of her nose, but kept quiet.

"Al," said the President, turning to Nimzicki, "Once this is done, we'll deal with the pair of them, but right now we need their insight. They know what mistakes we can make, and help us avoid them."

"Mr. President, I vehemently object. These two are dangerous, and the longer they are around us, around you, the more we are in danger," countered Nimzicki.

"You opinion is noted Al, but this is my decision. Aside from their heritage, they've been loyal citizens, and have saved the lives of millions of Americans," said the President.

"Thank you, Mr. President," said Winona with a nod.

"Thank you, Mrs. Black," said the President.


	12. Chapter 12

**Death Valley, California**

Two pilots, three witches, and a semi-retired professor stood in the evening's fading light, looking at the crashed alien craft before them. Finding it wasn't that hard, since Captain Hiller, one of the pilots, had left a rather obvious trail as he hauled the unconscious alien in its bio-mechanical suit across the playa.

"I'm not sure what y'all plan on doing with this thing," said Hiller, walking around the downed Attacker through the scrub.

"Well, as I explained, Cerberus is a research institute, as well as a clearing house for various innovations among the assets of my wife and brother-in-law," explained Sirius. Like Hiller, and all the other surrounding the alien craft, he wore sunglasses, and his long, robe-like coat flapped lightly in the light evening breeze.

"We saw videos of the Attackers against the RAF," said Hermione, walking around the craft in the opposite direction. "They are quite maneuverable, and the shielding technology alone would be worth it's weight in Helium-3. I'd like to see how it compares to our own shields, and perhaps see what their energy weapons are capable of."

"Wait, 'our own shields'?" asked Hiller. "Lady, I'm not sure about Jolly Old England, but here in America, I've never head of any sort of magical shielding technology that can shrug off a twenty millimeter round or a Sidewinder."

Sue chuckled, "Funny you should say that."

"Say what?" asked Hiller.

"Dora?" asked Sirius of his cousin.

"Hey, we're way outside of my jurisdiction, and as I understand it Whitmore suspended the Statute after Mr. Shepard saved his life yesterday. Plus, I'm still quite competent with a memory charm," explained the pink-haired auror.

"Wait, 'memory charm'?" asked Hiller. "Either you're messing with me, or aliens aren't the only things I have to worry about."

"You've heard of the saying, 'Any significantly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic', right?" asked Hermione, who by now had joined Hiller and Harry near the rear of the Attacker. "Well, the five of us, we're capable of things for which you'd need the aforementioned technology."

"Magic?" asked Hiller surprised. He looked around as the five britons just shrugged and nodded. "You're telling me both aliens and magic are real?" Another round of nods.

"Now, technically we're not telling you, we're merely supporting your own conclusions," said Sue. "While the President here might have suspended the Statute, I'd still rather not be so cavalier with it."

"Good point Sue," said Harry, smiling at his girlfriend, or rather, fiancée. He'd planned on proposing on his birthday, when he'd finally be an adult, but between the alien invasion, and the rather sudden trip to America, he'd decided that he'd rather not wait. If it was still around when all this was over, he was thinking of taking a day trip with Sue over to Gretna Green, though since both his godfather and her aunt approved, they could have married practically anywhere. "Anyway, enough about the potential for supernatural powers, we need to get this thing prepared for transport."

"Transport?" asked Hiller. "How and where?"

"We should be able to get the built-in fight systems online, make it levitate, so to speak," said Hermione, as she grabbed a piece of the surface, which was much rougher than any airplane, or even spacecraft, she'd encountered. "It obviously doesn't rely on the same mechanics to fly as airplanes or helicopters, so if we can get that running, then lifting it with the Hippogriff would be child's play."

"You know, we should just oblivitate him and do it the easy way," said Sirius, stroking his chin.

"Ah hell nah, nobody's oblivitatin' nobody, even if I knew what it meant," said Hiller, taking a step back.

"It wasn't exactly a serious proposal," said Sirius with a smirk.

"Enough beating around the bush," said Hermione, standing on the top surface of the Attacker. "Either help me to get this thing ready for flight, or stun him and get it ready otherwise. He's already assumed the existence of magic. I for one don't want to spend any more time in the middle of nowhere than I strictly have to."

"Well, since our expert in techno-thaumaturgy has spoken, let's get this show on the road," said Harry. He then stepped over to Hiller, "So, do you want the pleasure to escorting the Attacker, or flying the Hippogriff?"

**Area 51, Nevada**

Shepard awoke suddenly, and with a splitting headache, "Ow, remind me never to do that again."

"I'll try," said Winona, putting down the prototype em-book she'd been reading. While they'd been able to push technology faster, it could only go so fast with only two people, or rather one person with a time machine, working on it. It helped when you could make up for the shortcomings of technology with a bit of magic. "But you know how impulsive you can get when you want to look impressive."

"Was I?" asked Shepard. "Impressive I mean."

"Well, it was certainly impressive, though it made things harder," said Winona. "Secretary Nimzicki trusts neither of us, and is likely as not going to paint Siri, Harry, Hermione, Sue, and Dora with the same brush."

"Five? I would have brought maybe one or two," said Shepard. "But then, I assume you went for Hermione, since she's our star techno-thaumaturge, and Harry because he can fly practicably anything. Sirius came because he wanted to be the 'responsible adult', and Sue came because she's Harry's girlfriend."

"Fiancée," corrected Winona.

"Ah, fiancée then, and that explains Dora, though I'm surprised she wasn't able to persuade Remus to come along," said Shepard.

"Someone needed to keep track of all your sprogs at Skyfall, and between him and Cissy they can handle pretty much anything," joked Winona.

"Well, enough about the past, I'm more worried about the future," said Shepard, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"How so?" asked Winona. "I mean, David's still going to do his particular breed of magic, and if I can get Hermione in here, they might work a bit faster together. After that, it's just a brief trip up to the Mothership, then perfect the timing on the assault on the Destroyers, and we're done."

"It's gotten more complicated," said Shepard. "It's not just the aliens, or rather, the grays."

"They're taking to calling them acrids, after locusts," said Winona. "Bit more original than just calling them by the color of their skin."

"Well, King would be proud, as that's quite accurate as to the content of their character, or at least, that of the government," said Shepard. "They don't really have a name for themselves, aside from 'the people' or 'the government'. Comes from their telepathy I guess. Though, that's not the difficult part."

"What is?" asked Winona.

"They're no alone," said Shepard.

Winona just looked confused.

So, Shepard conjured an illusion, of both the fully suited alien as well as a naked version, "These are the aliens, the acrids, native to one of the planets of the binary system Zeta Reticuli."

"So, they're Retuculan," said Winona with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but they're old, probably a few tens of thousands of years more advanced, though it's hard to tell exactly since the pilot wasn't exactly well educated on orbital periods. Anyway, their planet's destroyed, or practicably so, a result of a civil war and very large gravity manipulation weapons. The ones in the Mothership, they're the victors, or there survivors at least. They've been traveling around for a few tens of thousands of years, going from system to system, looking for resources, both biological and mineral."

"I assume by the 'they're no alone' comment that we're not talking just food when you say 'biological' resources," said Winona. She wished that she'd known about this, but I guess they really did love their exposition, and even if it was to themself, explaining things was fun.

"They have two slave species," said Shepard, creating two more illusions. One was as tall as the fully suited acrid, with a roughly humanoid body structure. It looked nothing less than a humanoid tiger or panther with a pair of two or three meter long tentacles coming out of its back. Like the acrid it was naked aside from its fur, which was a dark blue or purple. The second seemed to have more in common with an ant or spider than a human, though like there others it was obviously a tool user, with shorter manipulating arms, for of them, near its head, and six segmented legs similar to a spider or insect. It had four body structures, a head, the upper thorax with the arms, a lower thorax with the legs, and an abdomen at the rear.

"Interesting," said Winona. "I think the cat people will have a better time than the arthropods, and both, being subjugated, will have a better time than the acrids."

"Well, luckily the acrids left the other two home planets intact, if devastated, so they'll be able to go home if they want, though they've been slaves for thousands of years, the arthropods for about twice as long as the felines," explained Shepard.

"So, we can't just blow up the ship then."

"Not that it was the plan anyway, I don't want an Endor on our hands, and I think we'd best leave the xenocide to Ender," said Shepard.

"Well, we need to get it out of Earth orbit no matter what we do, it's a quarter of the mass of the Moon, and it's already messing with the tides," said Winona. "I'm thinking Venus or Mars orbit. But, we need to deal with things first. Siri should be bringing Hiller, the Attacker he grounded, and the El Toro survivors back by shortly after sunset."

"How are things going otherwise?" asked Shepard. "I mean, they'd already hit their second targets when I went unconscious."

"Well, they're going quicker than we expected, in addition to having more Destroyers and being more spread out, especially in the Southern Hemisphere. We've lost over a hundred cities to their main weapon, though it seems that the shots are getting smaller, if only decreasing from a hundred megatons down into the seventy-five megaton range. Ten hours from first to second, and eight from second to third. So, it'll be sometime between midnight and 2 am EDT, or ten and midnight our time for the fourth wave of attacks."

"What about Nimzicki's nuke plans?" asked Shepard.

"They're planning on trying the Johannesburg Destroyer as it goes from Maputo to Dar es Salaam," explained Winona. "They're at least taking out suggestion of attempting to flip it, rather than going head on. The USS Nevada is in position in the Indian Ocean. Luckily both Mozambique and Tanzania are willing to allow it, though I'm sure that they would have tried even without the support of the governments involved, though Whitmore had to pledge additional humanitarian support for the affected area, beyond whatever aid gets distributed after it's all over."

"Do you think it'll work?" asked Shepard.

Winona shrugged, "I hope so, it's not like you let me into your secrets. I mean, you didn't even tell me about the arthropods and felines, let along the success or failure. All I know is that we win in the end, or at least, survive long enough to send me back."


	13. Chapter 13

**Area 51, Nevada**

"Captain Hiller, where were you?" asked General Grey as Hiller escorted a ragged woman in her early thirties and a young boy out of the elevator to the surface. A couple of middle aged men followed, and then three teenagers escorted by a man who looked to be in his early thirties.

"I went to confirm the reports about MCAS El Toro, Sir," said Hiller, snapping to attention.

"And these stragglers?" asked Grey, gesturing to the one in the obviously damaged clothing, as opposed to the four Brits.

"Survivors sir, of Los Angeles," explained Hiller. "With an armada of RVs outside I figured it was safe to bring a half dozen injured here."

"And you four?" asked Grey, looking to the Brits.

"We offered him a ride, General," explained Sirius, stepping forward.

"And who might you be?" Grey asked.

"They're with us," said Shepard.

"Well, more with me, but that's details," added Winona. She walked up and gave Sirius a hug and a kiss. "General Grey, this is my husband, Sirius Black. Sirius, this is General William Grey, of the Untied States Marine Corps, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and this ranking military commander for the United State Armed Forces, second only to the Commander-in-Chief himself."

"A pleasure," said Sirius, offering his hand for a shake.

Grey reluctantly shook it, "Lord Black."

"While technically yes, since we're here in the States, it's best if it's just 'Mister' Black, or just call me Sirius," he said in reply.

"Yes, well, I was wondering why you had to offer my Marine a ride?"

"Well, he wanted to get to El Toro, and we made a trade for our services in getting him there," said Sirius.

"A trade?" asked Grey sharply.

"They took me to El Toro, and helped me bring back these survivors, and I show them where the Attacker I downed was," explained Hiller.

"To what end?" asked Grey.

"Cerberus is a think tank, but we do research and development as well, working with many different companies world-wide. We're big on space research, after I helped save the Space Shuttle seemed like a good idea. A few years ago we even procured one of the uncompleted Burans from Kazakhstan. We've been working on getting it working, and perhaps using it as a commercial launch vehicle," explained Shepard.

"And what does …" began Grey, before he understood, "Salvage?"

"Seemed like a good idea," said Winona. "As soon as we realized the aliens were coming we but out a call to all our contacts around the world, top dollar for intact alien artifacts, cash on verification."

"Wait, how much cash?" asked Hiller.

"Fifteen million for the Attacker," said Shepard. "Though we'll likely re-negotiate once inflation has settled after the war."

"You expect us to win?" asked Hiller.

"Of course we're going to win," said Shepard with a smile. "Even if I have to go up to that Mothership myself and kill every last one of them, we're going to win. I'd rather not have to, but that's neither here nor there."

"Wait, you don't want to kill them all?" asked Jasmine, the woman leaning off of Captain Hiller.

"Why would I?" asked Shepard.

"You weren't in LA, if you were, you've want to go after those bastards," said Jasmine icily.

"What about Germany after the Second World War? If you could, would you have every man, woman, and child in Nazi Germany killed because of the holocaust?"

"Oh," said Jasmine, realizing the scale of what she desired.

"What we should do is go after their leaders, their government, put responsibility where it belongs," said Shepard.

"And what about the rest?" asked Hiller. "Once you take out their leadership, what then?"

"I'm thinking Venus for a start," said Shepard.

"Venus?"

"Well, for the acrids and their arthropodic slaves at least," said Shepard. "I'm pretty sure they've got left-handed proteins, rather than the right-handed ones here on Earth. The feline slaves, I'm sure we can find a place for them on Earth, we'll need the help rebuilding."

"Wait, slaves? Arthropods? Felines? What are you talking about Shepard?" asked Grey.

"I got more out of the acrid pilot I killed than just how to fly their ships," said Shepard.

"It's not that hard," commented Harry, speaking for the first time. "The sticks are inverted, but otherwise the controls are pretty simple. The seats leave a bit to be desired, but that's easily fixed."

"Wait, you flew the crashed alien ship?" asked Grey.

"Well, once we cleaned it out, it wasn't that hard, had to fix a couple of broken bits, but nothing Hermione couldn't handle," said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, yeah, we mostly kept it in neutral, so to speak, and let the Hippogriff, and Captain Hiller, do the driving, but it's not like it's impossible to fly the thing."

"So, you have a working acrid Attacker?" asked Grey.

"Not sure if the weapons work, couldn't figure then out," said Harry.

Grey turned on Shepard, "We'll talk about your little 'salvage' operation later, I need you to brief the President on these slaves you spoke of. They make things … complicated." He then nodded to Hiller, "Captain, get these civilians to the infirmary, and then report to me ASAP. Shepard, follow me to the President. Black, you have the passes for your employees, make sure they know that these are limited access passes, just to the common areas, the main research lab, and the hangar, and just for the duration. Once this is over we're all going to have a nice long talk about what we've learned." He then turned on his heel, and began to walk.

Shepard shrugged, "Well, got to run. Sirius, nice to see you're safe. Kids, nice to see you again. Harry, Sue, congrats on the engagement." He then turned and followed Grey.


	14. Chapter 14

**Area 51, Nevada**

"Well, while your pie plate theory worked, we didn't have enough to topple the Johannesburg Destroyer. Loathe as I am to admit it, it was a good idea, just one not fitting the resources available," said Nimzicki after Shepard once again sat before the small cabinet. "I'd still rather see you killed or incarcerated for the lies that you've lived, I'll admit you were right about this."

"Thank you Secretary Nimzicki," said Shepard.

"Mr. Shepard has some important information that he needs to share with us," said Grey, sitting down on the President's right, with Nimzicki to Whitmore's left.

"What sort of information?" asked the President.

"About the aliens, the acrids as people down here are calling them," said Shepard. He went for his wand, but then paused, "I'd like to cast three illusions, if I may?"

"Go ahead," said the President.

Nimzicki glared, but let it go.

Shepard grabbed his wand, although with the Elder Wand as a ring he didn't need it, it kept his cover intact. With a few flicks three illusions were cast, each half a meter tall and in full fidelity. The center was the acrid biosuit, and was animated, the tentacles waving and the feet moving forward, a strange weapon held in the suit's arms. To it's right, and before Nimzicki, was the insectoid form, roughly analogous to a four-armed arthropod centaur. To the far left, before Grey, was the dark blue furred feline, armored in a suit similar to, but obviously different from, the one the acrid wore.

"Instead of the monolithic aliens we thought we were fighting, instead we're fighting a species of alien slavers and their two slave species," explained Shepard. "The arthropod aliens, or insect-taurs if you will, are the older of the two slave species, having been dominated thousands of years ago, about twice as long as the feline aliens. At first the insect-taurs merely replaced enslaved acrids, the losers to a civil war that ended tens of thousands of years ago. They left their home planet in a fleet of battleships, what we call the City Destroyers, sixty-four in all. Over time some got damaged as they sought out a new planet to live on. Once they enslaved the insect-taurs, they built their Mothership, some sort of hollowed out moon or asteroid, as the insect-taurs are masters at burrowing through rock and metal."

"After leaving the home planet of the insect-taurs, they went in search of more resources, more slaves, and somewhere between two and three thousand years later, came across the planet of the feline aliens. While the insect-taurs were able to fight back with a single nuke, the felines weren't even into a proper age of steam, let alone flight. The acrids came on, killed most of the felines, and enslaved the rest, bringing them with them here. They are shock troops, the first soldiers out of the ship for us to kill before running out of bullets and then having the acrid troops walk in and kill most of us. The felines are good fighters, but they're actually best at stealth, having the ability to turn invisible for short periods of time, some even while moving. I suspect, as I did the acrids, that this might be a magical ability of some sort. Not sure if they have more extensive magic, but it's an option."

"So, they're slavers, and they lost a civil war thousands of years ago, why are they just now showing up?" asked the President. "I mean, tens of thousands of years to find one planet, then a few thousand more to find another, and a few thousand more to find us, right?"

"As I understand it, but realize, they don't have any sort of faster-than-light propulsion. The Mothership, it's so large because it's got all their people in it, a billion acrids at least, and at least as many of the slaves," explained Shepard.

"A billion?" asked the President, shocked.

"We don't know this for sure, Mr. President," said Nimzicki.

"Why would I lie to you?" asked Shepard.

"It's not that I suspect you, I suspect your source," said Nimzicki, covering his ass.

"I didn't interrogate him, Mr. Secretary, I know everything he, or rather they, since it's neither male nor female, knew. I know how long they live, all three species. I know that the acrids and insect-taurs can't eat the same food as the felines, though not why. I know that they have an emperor of some sort, a supreme acrid, though they are more of a figurehead to the military council that have truly been in charge for tens of thousands of year, since evacuating their home planet. I know that they kept twelve of the City Destroyers in reserve. I know that each City Destroyer has nearly a quarter of a million Attackers, as well as over a million acrid, insect-taur, and feline crew."

"I also know that, if we were to destroy, or even attempt to destroy, the Mothership, we'll be dooming life on Earth to either a fast or slow death, at least on the level of the extinction that killed most of the dinosaurs."

"Don't you mean all the dinosaurs?" asked Nimzicki.

"Some now, if that were the case, we'd not have a national bird, now would we?" asked Shepard. "No matter, we need to defeat them quickly, and then move the Mothership somewhere safe."

"So, now we don't just need to defeat them, now we need to save them too?" asked Nimzicki.

"Kill the leaders, save the civilians, just like in any war," said Shepard.

"And how exactly are we going to do that? I'm still waiting for your miracle," said the President.

"My sister brought some assets from Cerberus, hopefully one'll be able to work with David and get him working," said Shepard.

"Good luck with that one," said Nimzicki. "He's getting himself plastered after he head about the Johannesburg Destroyer surviving."

"I'll get working on it," said Shepard. He then waved his hand, and the illusions dispersed. "May I go?"

"Good luck, your plan, such as it is, is out only chance," said Grey with a nod.


	15. Chapter 15

**July 4**

**Area 51, Nevada**

"Aren't you supposed to be working with Doctor Levinson?" asked Winona, upon finding Hermione levitating a piece of the acrid Scout Ship that some of the Area Fifty-One technicians had left behind for the night.

"It's not worth it," sighed Hermione, rotating the piece of hull around with a gentle swipe of her wand. "I mean, when they nuked that Johannesburg Destroyer, he started drinking, and then when he heard about the fourth wave of attacks, he kept drinking."

Winona cast a quick _tempos_, "That was six hours ago."

Hermione checked her own wrist watch, one she'd charmed to accurately show the time, as well as numerous other features, "Okay, perhaps he took a nap, or rather passed out, a few hours ago, but it's hopeless. You and Mr. Shepard expect him to make some grand discovery, like he did with the countdown clock, but it's not going to happen. We should be trying to figure out how to portkey a bunch of aurors or hitwaizards onto their ships, to take them out."

"At least the London Destroyer finally left after Birmingham and Manchester, though the loss of most of the Netherlands is small consolation." sighed Hermione.

"I told you not to watch the news," said Winona, leaning on the edge of one of the tables. "Plus, shouldn't you be asleep right now?"

"I'm on British Summer Time, I was barely awake on the flight in from Las Vegas, though I'll have to admit, the International Portkey wasn't very nice," said Hermione.

"You see now why my brother and I always carry anti-nausea potions, though, don't you?" asked Winona.

"I know, and you have always made sure that we understood the importance of preparation, but what good is that doing us here?" asked Hermione.

"Well, we, my brother and I, we know that David is going to come up with what we need, and he'll work better if he comes up with it, rather than being suggested. So, until he reaches that point, we need to work on other things," said Winona.

"Other things?" asked Hermione. "Like what?"

"Well, how about communications? We know that they're interfering with radio transmissions, so what can we use that goes around that restriction?" asked Winona.

"Well, since you're asking me, it must be some sort of melding of tech and magic, since that's my area of expertise," said Hermione.

"I honestly don't know how this is going to work, just that I feel that we need it. We can't just go in and blow up the Mothership, there are innocents aboard, and I won't want our victory over the acrids to be colored by a xenocide," said Winona. "So, I come to you, my most promising student, brightest witch of her age, and the best techno-thaumaturge on the planet. How would you compensate for the loss of radio?"

Hermione thought for a moment, her wand still idly spinning the chunk of the acrid Scout Ship. "Well, I'm thinking, at it's base, we need something magical, but something magical that could interface well with technology."

Winona nodded, "Good."

"We're trying to replicate radio, but not like the Wireless, since that's just on different frequencies. Magic, for all intents and purposes, is a point-to-point method."

"So, how to connect the two points?" asked Winona.

Hermione chuckled, "If I had a few billion pounds and a decade or two I'd use quantum entanglement to tie two things together."

"Any way to do that magically?" asked Winona. She'd just had an idea herself, but wanted to see if Hermione would get there too. She'd done it in the original timeline, so why not here?

Hermione tapped her finger to her chin while she bit her lower lip in thought, then, in a burst of inspiration, looked up. "I've got it. The Protean charm!"

Winona smiled and nodded, "Okay, so, you use that to create a sympathetic link between two objects."

"Yes, and if we use it on the radios, perhaps the antennas or something similar, then they can be used even past the interference!" said Hermione with a smile.

Just then they head some crashing from the hangar, and Hermione groaned, her happiness lost.

"What's that?" asked Winona, stepping away from the table and towards the white walkway down the center of the research chamber.

"Probably Doctor Levinson waking up from his last bender to start his next," sighed Hermione.

"I think … I think we better look in on him, just in case," said Winona, nodding towards the hangar. "Plus, we need to start work on your Protean charm linked radio anyway."

Hermione shrugged, and followed, still levitating and playing idly with the piece of the Scout Ship.

As they stepping into the hangar Winona reached out and stopped Hermione, watching Julius and David talk, the latter sitting on the floor, and the former bent over him.

"Look at myself, I haven't spoken to G-d since your mother died," said Julius softly to his son. "Well you see, sometimes, we have to remember what we still have."

"Like what?" asked a despondent David, wondering what was left when all else had failed in trying to stop the alien invasion.

David gaped with a fish for a moment, "You still have your health."

His son merely chuckled in response.

"Why did you stop me?" asked Hermione softly, making sure her question wouldn't carry across to the father-son moment. She'd learnt her first week in Ravenclaw that there was a difference between a whisper and a soft word.

"Come one, come, David, David, you need your rest," insisted Julius. "Get off this freezing concrete floor before you catch a cold, come on."

Winoa smiled at the same moment David got his revelation. "There it is," she said softly in response to the seventeen year old witch's question.

Suddenly both David and Hermione got similar, if not the same, revelation.

"What did he just say?" she asked.

"What did you just say?" asked David.

"You mean about faith?" asked Julius. "Well … See, a man can live …"

"No, no, no," said David, as Hermione dashed down the ramp, echoing the same words.

"Not that dad, the other part," said David, pulling himself up off the floor.

"What?" asked Julius.

Just then David caught sight of Hermione, and in that moment, the two geniuses connected.

"I don't want you to catch cold," said Julius, as Winona, still at the top of the ramp, holding the piece of Scout Ship Hermione had almost let hit the ground in his hand, mouthed the same words.

David groaned, his idea fighting with his hangover.

"What is it?" asked Julius, turning back to his son. "What's the matter with you?"

"Genius," said David, racing past his father.

"It's so simple," confirmed Hermione, who awoke the technician sleeping at his console.

"Genius?" asked Julius.

"My dad," said David.

"You father," echoed Hermione with a chuckle.

"A total genius," they said in unison.

"David!" shouted Winona from the top of the ramp.

"What?" asked David, turning to look at the sister of the man who's saved countless lives. The two of them were rumored to be some sort of time travelers or visitors from another dimension. He didn't trust her as much as he did her brother, but there was still something there, that same spark of genius and madness that he'd seen when that helicopter had landed at the edge of Central Park.

Winona tossed a plastic vial at David, which the man caught.

"What's this?" asked David.

Hermione grabbed the vial from David, looked at it, then handed it back, "It's a hangover potion, or rather, a hangover removal potion."

"Really?" asked David.

Hermione just nodded.

"That's cheating," sighed David.

"That's the first rule mundanes need to learn about magic, it cheats, and magicals, we're lazy, cheating, bastards to the last of us," explained Hermione. "Now, let's get working, this virus isn't going to write itself, and the drivers the guys here have come up with aren't quite going to cut it."


	16. Chapter 16

**Area 51, Nevada**

"What do you mean I can't go?" asked David.

"It's just that, David, I can't let you go. Aside from Ms. Granger, who we'll be losing to Cerberus when this is all over, you know more about the alien technology, especially their computers, than any dozen researchers here at Area Fifty-One, and you've done it in forty-eight hours," said President Whimore.

"And what makes them the right candidates? I thought you didn't trust them." asked David, gesturing to Shepard and Winona, who were both in skin-tight space suits, though they'd not put on their helmets, nor their gloves.

"We can teleport," said Winona, looking up from the Scout Ship.

"And I've actually done it from further out than the point the Mothership is in," said Shepard, who didn't look away.

"You've been to space?" asked David.

"I've been to Venus," said Shepard. "Walked on the surface even. Not a very hospitable place, wouldn't recommend it for tourism. Not an Amazon or Dinosaur in sight."

"Venus?" asked Whitmore, surprised. He'd understood that the two dimensional travelers were powerful, but to have walked in the hell-like environment of Venus, well, that was nearly beyond belief, but they way Shepard had said it, he just about believed it.

"Wait, you never told me about Venus," said Sirius. "Plus, I still don't understand why both of you have to go."

"I didn't tell you about Venus because you were dealing with things at Hogwarts. I mean, I told you that Quirrel was possessed, and that I planned to take care of him," said Shepard.

"So, did you just leave him on Venus?" asked Sirius.

"Wait, you took someone with you to Venus?" asked the President.

Shepard stepped away from the Scout Ship, and down the steps to where David, Whitmore, and Sirius were waiting. "Voldemort, Riddle, he was possessing Quirrel. I didn't want him to endanger you, Winnie, or Harry, so I took somewhere I knew nobody would be visiting. I intended to leave the two of them there, providing food and drink, and let them rot there. Quirrel would have died in a few months anyway, and then Voldemort's spirit would have been trapped, alone, and Venus, until his last horcrux could be destroyed."

"What do you mean 'what have'?" asked the President.

"What he means is he lost his cool, he let Riddle antagonize him, lost control of the situation, and then absorbed Quirinus' soul at the same time he grabbed the last free bit of Riddle's," explained Winona, leaning against the Scout Ship. "So, after losing his temper, he went and wrecked the entire thing. The first humans to step foot on another planet, and he just let the acid winds of Venus wash away all the evidence."

Just then a sixth person entered the hangar, Captain Hiller in one of the bulky NASA space suits, sans helmet. He stopped at the top of the ramp when he noticed Winona and Black in their skin suits, "Wait, I get the bulky space suit, why you two get to wear the comfortable ones?"

Winona just shrugged, "They're custom made, Captain Hiller, it would take a few weeks to get you fitted and measured for one. The only reason Jimmy and I even have them is because we were planning on going up in the Burya next year, in preparation to putting up the UK's contribution to the ISS in 2000."

"I'm just saying, I've got the baggy antique, and you two got the new hotness," said Hiller.

"Are you hitting on my wife?" asked Sirius.

"I would hope not," said Jasmine, as she followed her new husband, along with her son, carrying his new step-father's helmet, into the hangar. "We just got married, and I don't appreciate him already looking at other women."

"I wasn't … she's just …" stammered Hiller, before hanging his head.

"There, now that's a man who understands marriage," said Sirius.

"Why do you think I didn't get married?" asked Shepard.

"That's because you'd have to chose, Jimmy, not because you're not in a relationship," said Sirius. "Of course, that brings up another issue, why are the two of you going? Why not just one?"

"If we're going to talk with these acrids, get them to move this ship out of orbit once we've defeated them here on Earth, we're going to need to talk with them," explained Whitmore. "Shepard's the closest thing we've got to a translator, and if any of the aliens give them trouble, either of them can gain valuable intelligence from their downed foe. Hiller is going to pilot the Scout Ship up to the Mothership and act as my representative."

"But why both? If Jimmy can do it himself, why send my wife along?" asked Sirius.

"Siri, honey, I need to go," said Winona. "Someone needs to keep Jimmy in line. Plus, as the duly appointed ambassador from the ICW and the British Ministry of Magic to the aliens, it's my responsibility to do so."

"Was wondering what you were doing at Hogwarts before we left," said Sirius. "Cerberus and Hogwarts wasn't enough, now you're getting into politics?"

"Think of it as moving the plan forward, Sirius," said Shepard, slapping his brother-in-law on the back. "I mean, why just unite the Earth, when we can get the opportunity to unite the aliens along with it?"

Sirius' eyes got wide, when he realized just what the plan really was, "So much for two to three hundred years."

Shepard shrugged, "Eh, plans change. At least I don't have to go with the Africa option."

"No, you'll just take over Britain with those sprogs of yours," said Sirius.

"While this is fine and dandy, we do have a schedule to keep. We wait any longer and we're going to lose even more cities to these aliens," said Whitmore.

"Well, the ship's good to fly," said Winona, stepping down from the dais.

"She got a name?" asked Hiller.

"A name?" asked Whitmore.

"All good spaceships have names. The Eagle landed on the Moon, all the shuttles have names," said Hiller. "Plus, it's not like we can call it 'Scout Ship' over the comms."

"I was thinking Normandy," said Shepard with a smirk.

"Normandy? Why that?" asked David.

"Operation Overlord?" asked Whitmore. "The invasion of Nazi-occupied France, the beginning of the end of World War II?" He nodded, "A fitting name."

Winona just rolled her eyes, "Don't you dare suggest we give it a hull number." She glared at her brother, her younger self as the lich nobodez.

"Well, it's not exactly a stealth frigate, now is it? Plus, this isn't a Navy operation anyway," said Shepard dismissively.

"Do you know what they're talking about?" asked Whitmore.

"At this point, I just ignore them when they start making references," said Sirius. "It used to be just Jimmy, but now that they've both admitted to being dimensional time travelers, I wouldn't be surprised if they do it constantly. They have at least started making references to pop culture from this timeline now and again. Eventually they'll switch over entirely."

"God, I hope so," said Whitmore. He then turned to Hiller, "Captain, you understand you mission. Pilot the Normandy to the acrid Mothership, get Mr. Levinson's virus into their computer systems, and then assist Mr. Shepard and Mrs. Black with their diplomatic mission to end the hostilities between the acrids and Earth."

Hiller saluted, "Aye sir, deliver the virus, then convince them to go away."

"Good luck," said Whitmore, returning the salute. He then presented three metal tubes to Hiller, "For afterwards."

Hiller smiled, the smile of one pilot to another, "Aye sir." he then took the cigars and put them in one of the pockets of his space suit. "Now, let's get this show on the road."


	17. Chapter 17

**Scout Ship Normandy, Acrid Mothership, 190,000 km above Earth**

With a smile Winona closed the lid of the laptop, "And that's that. The Virus is uploaded. Within ten minutes it'll propagate to the Destroyers, and then the shields will be down."

"How long before they're back up?" asked Hiller. He still wore his bulky orange NASA space suit, his name tape hastily switched form his flight suit and an incongruous green amongst the orange.

Shepard, who's full-face breathing mask was separate from the hockey-inspired helmet, just shrugged, "Ten minutes, maybe thirty on the outside. Depends on how good their IT department is. Ten minutes if they're a match for anything the US or UK military has in their cyber-warfare departments, thirty minutes if they're closer to the Russians or Chinese. Could be as little as five minutes if they're really good, but that's about the limit due to the lag of their communications system."

"Confirmation from Area Fifty-one should come through once the shields are down and the global forces make their attack runs," said Winona.

"You sure going for the weapon is the best idea?" asked Hiller.

"It's the only part that isn't armored to high heaven," said Shepard. "I'd rather send in a couple of missiles than lose a plane, if it's all the same to you. The hulls were designed for space travel as much as they wore for combat, so anything we can throw at them is a mere pittance. The weapon, though, is their vulnerable point. That's why we had to time it right. Sure, it means we'll likely lose the cities they're over anyway, due to the crash, but at least it'll end the invasion."

"And then we do our thing?"

"That's the idea, so, let's get ready. You're going to need to get out of that suit if you're going to come along though," said Winona, deftly climbing out of her seat.

"Why?" asked Hiller, as she attempted to do the same, but the mobility loss from the suit was enough to answer his own question. "And what'll I wear in the meantime? You two said I couldn't get one of those suits of yours."

"Well, I was thinking you could wear your flight suit, though you'll likely need some body armor," said Winona, pulling a black box about the size of a pack of playing cards out of the thigh pocket of her suit.

Shepard stood next to Hiller, "So, you a rifle or grenade launcher kind of guy?"

"What kind of question is that?" asked the Marine.

"Well, I assumed you're not an SMG guy, so did you want a rifle or a grenade launcher?" asked Shepard.

Just then Winona expanded the black box, until it was a meter wide, and half against as long. She undid a pair of latched and flipped open the lid, exposing enough weapons to arm a platoon and three suits of armor that looked closer to what a Stormtrooper in Star Wars would wear, rather than what Hiller was used to seeing.

"Damn," said Hiller with a low whistle.

Winona grabbed a rifle, though at first glance Hiller knew something was off, since it didn't seem to have a magazine, though he recognized the similarity to a bull-pup design, such as what the French, Austrians, or British used for their own service rifles.

"This is the CBR-1, a seven point six-two battle rifle. It's a bull-pup design, obviously," said Winona, holding the rifle in the palms of her hands to show it off. "As you can see, there's no magazine. That's because it uses a proprietary ammunition duplication process, firing caseless rounds, so no extraction port's needed either." She pointed to a selector thumb switch on the left side of the weapon, above the grip, "This is your selector switch. Safe, semi, burst, and auto. Since there's no magazine to remove or extractor port, the only way the weapon is safe is when it's in safe mode. You'd do well to remember that." She flipped the weapon over in her hands, and showed another selector switch on the right side of the weapon, though this one was forward of the trigger, so it was a finger switch as appropriate for that side of the weapon. "This is the ammunition selector switch. A bit different, but that's because it's a techno-thaumaturgical weapon. It had three modes: stun, kinetic, and kill. Stun is just that, converting the round fired into a bolt of magical energy. A single shot will knock out a human-sized target for two hours, while a three-round burst will knock out a giant or elephant for the same duration, or a human for a day. The weapon can only be used in auto-fire on stun. Kinetic is what you're used to, though it fires a depleted uranium sabot at a kilometer a second, yielding ten times the kinetic energy of a standard M995 round from an M16, and about a fifth of the stopping power of the thirty millimeter round from a Warthog's cannon. It's limited to three-round burst and semi-auto fire. The final mode is kill, and it's based on the killing curse, so if it hits something, they're dead. That's why it's semi-auto only. The switches are linked, so if you're on kill and semi, and switch to burst, it switches to kinetic. From burst and kinetic, it switches to stun when you go to auto. It doesn't do the reverse, thous, so going from auto to burst will still be in stun unless you switch to kinetic manually."

"Okay, seems simple enough, and good idea on the limits. I could just see some puke just out of boot killing their whole squad with friendly fire because they forgot to switch from kill to stun when they wen to auto-fire," said Hiller with a nod.

"Good, that's the CBR-1, a nice rifle. Obviously it's a niche product, mainly in use with Cerberus' magical PMC, though we've gotten some sales to the US Department of Magic," said Winona.

"What about the grenade launcher?" asked Hiller.

At that, Shepard reached in a pulled out a weapon that looked like an oversize shotgun, again in bull-pup configuration. It had a single, seven-position selector switch. "This is the CGL-2 forty millimeter grenade launcher. Like the CBR, it uses duplicated ammunition, so there's no magazine. It has six modes beyond safe. The first three are simple and what you'd expect in a grenade launcher: smoke, frag, and HEAT. Next, there's the flechette round, basically a one and a half gauge shotgun firing depleted uranium flechettes. Fifth is the slug, a thirty-millimeter DU slug on a gyro-jet sabot. It hits as hard as the Warthog's GAU-8, though obviously as a single shot and not quite as accurately. Last but not least is the stun grenade. Puts out a ten meter radius burst of the same magic in the CBR."

"What are you two using?" asked Hiller.

"CMP-4s," said Winona, setting down the rifle and picking up a weapon that looked not unlike an MP5K, though without the magazine. "Semi or burst only, and the kinetic is is only 3 kilojoules, a seventh of the CBR's, but still a good fifty percent more than an M16's. Recoil's low enough that it can be used one-handed without a problem, and I'm good enough so I can go akimbo if desired, so I prefer to keep a wand in my off-hand."

"CBR myself, though I keep a CMP as a holdout," said Shepard, setting down the grenade launcher.

"And the armor?" asked Hiller. "Looks more like something out of Star Wars than anything practical."

"Well, it's magically enhanced, so we can use plate armor without the weight hassle," explained Shepard, pulling an armor vest out of the crate. He tapped it, "Kevlar, ceramic, titanium laminate, enhanced with featherweight, repair, and shield charms. Pretty much immune to anything aside from a kill round or a killing curse, at least where the armor covers. As light as leather to boot." He put the armor on like any armor vest Hiller had seen donned hundreds of times, including the velcro straps to adjust the fit. Shepard then grabbed some arm armor that wouldn't look out of place on a knight of yore, "Spaulders, rerebrace, vambrace, and gauntlets; nearly full mobility at the joints, and full mobility of the hands. Again, protects against nearly everything, though it's not perfect, as the joints are still vulnerable." He attached them with a quick-release buckle hidden under the spaders, and then secured more straps to keep them tight against his arms and around his hand. They appeared to have the requisite allowances to be worn over the skin-suits both dimensional travelers wore.

"Last is the leg armor," said Winona, pulling out a longer assortment of armor. "Cuisses and greaves, as well as faulds for the hips. Again, quick release to the armor vest, and then straps to secure." It seems that while Shepard was showing off his armor, she'd put on her own vest, though hadn't added the arm armor that Shepard had. "Our boots are already armored, so no need from sabatons, so you'll have to be careful there."

"Speaking of which, how am I supposed to get out of this getup. Took me a good ten minutes to get it on in the first place," asked Hiller.

Shepard pulled a wand and with a silent spell Hiller suddenly felt lighter, and then spun as he heard a crash behind him, as his space suit fell to the floor of the Normandy's cockpit. Hiller looked down and saw that he was still dressed in the temperature controlling underwear they'd made him wear under the space suit.

"Thanks," said Hiller.

Winona waved her wand and conjured what looked like a flight suit similar to the one he'd left at Area Fifty-one, though in much better condition, "Here, wear this, and then put on your armor. We've only got fine more minutes before the virus goes active, and then we've got a ship to raid."

"Yes ma'am," said Hiller, snapping a salute.


	18. Chapter 18

**Scout Ship Normandy, Acrid Mothership, 190,000 km above Earth**

The three Earthlings stood atop the Normandy, a repurposed acrid Scout Ship named, ostensibly, after the beginning of the end of the Second World War. All three were dressed similarly, and were near enough it height, that the easiest way to tell them apart would be their weapons and footwear. Of the two that wore armored boots, the slightly slimmer one was armed with a pair of submachine guns, both of them hanging from straps rather than in holsters of any sort. The other one in armored boots had a single submachine gun hanging on the left, and a battle rifle slung from the right. The third figure has a battle rifle in hand, and a grenade launcher in a holster over the right shoulder.

"Normandy, this is Dreamland, the shields are down, repeat, the shields are down," came the voice of Major Mitchell over the radio, or rather, the magically linked communications system that had replaced the radio in each face mask the three wore.

"Roger Dreamland, confirm shields are down. Commencing secondary objective," said Captain Hiller, holding his rifle in hand. He then tapped a button on the side of his face mask, switching the communications to just between the three of them. "Let's do this."

"You sure you're comfortable with this?" asked Shepard, pulling a wand from seemingly nowhere and drawing his SMG. "I mean, it's going to get a little hot and heavy down there."

"Jimmy," began Hiller, before pausing, "May I call you Jimmy?"

"Seems everyone else does, so why not you?" Shepard replied sarcastically.

"Well, Jimmy, of the three of us, I'm the only one with combat training. I may be a pilot, but every Marine's a Rifleman," Hiller replied.

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you've never faced three to two billion odds," said Shepard.

"Two … billion?" stuttered Hiller.

"Well, it's probably closer to a few million, tops," said Winona, readying her own SMG, as well as summoning a wand from the Demesne. "Plus, if they're anything like humans, we're only going to have to, at most, decimate them before we get a surrender."

"So only a few hundred thousand," said Hiller with a chuckle. "And you two planned to do this on your own?"

"Well …" said Shepard, walking over to the edge of the Normandy. He looked down, the assembled acrid troops barely visible in the haze over a kilometer below. He then looked back to Hiller and Winona, "It wasn't just going to be the two of us, and it's wasn't exactly a plan."

"Wasn't the two of … wasn't a plan?" asked Hiller, confused. "Who were you planning on bringing?"

"Well, officially, the newest battalion of the New York Guard," said Winona. "Though, really, pretty much any of our forces we thought would be valuable."

"Forces?" asked Hiller. "The New York Guard? Wait, you're talking about those guys that helped evacuate Manhattan? How were you planning on bringing them?"

Shepard absently waved his wand, and a trio of black clad soldiers in body armor, traditional body armor not the fancy stuff the three of them were wearing, and armed with battle rifles, SMGs, and grenades launchers, appeared on the other side of the Normandy, docked as it was to the massive stalactite that dominated the center of the Mothership.

"Who the fuck are they? And how the fuck did they get here?" asked HIller, taking a step back, though he stopped before getting too close to the edge.

"Members of the New York Guard, and magic, respectively," replied Winona. "They are the most traditional soldiers were have at our disposal, and since technically Governor Pataki allowed all of the soldiers in the employ of Cerberus to join the Guard, even those no deployed to Manhattan, all of our soldiers will be Guard members."

"And who, or what, are they?" asked Hiller, noticing the way the soldiers stood stock still, as if posed.

"They're ghouls, a bit like zombies only without the decaying flesh, the hunger for brains, or the lack of the same. They're smart, deadly, and loyal, plus, they're immune to pain," explained Shepard.

"So, we're fighting an alien invasion with an undead horde?" asked HIller. He then shrugged, "Why not? It's not like anyone I told would believe me anyway." He turned to Winona, "But, just so we're on the same page, if one of those undead freaks even looks at me sideways, it's getting a three-round burst to the head."

"Noted," said Winona. She then turned to the ghoul soldiers, "Stay here, guard the ship."

"Now, everyone remember where we parked," said Shepard. He then smirked, and took a step backwards, falling off the edge of the Normandy. Hiller rushed over, before being stopped by Winona, and just caught sight of Shepard turning into a cloud of smoke and then flying down to the assembled acrid soldiers. He couldn't quite make out what happened, except by seeing a burst of red light and then the acrids in a small circle fall over.

"How the … ?" asked Hiller.

"I assumed you're rather like a more civilized journey?" asked Winona.

"I'm tempted to head back inside, except for the ghoul squad over there," said Hiller, pointing to the still stationary ghoul soldiers.

"Well, let's go, can't let my brother have all the fun, now can we?" asked Winona, looping her right arm, holding the wand, through Hiller's left, and then pulling him tight.

Hiller would later describe the sensation of his first side-along apparation as being sucked through a straw sideways while spinning like a top.

Winona and HIller joined Shepard in the clearing, the wizard casting spells with his right hand, while shooting his SMG with his right. Winona, even before Hiller decided that puking into his face mask was a bad idea, nearly as bad as deciding to accompany the two mages up to the Mothership had been, sent a burst of red glowing shots from her SMG, dropping an acrid soldier that was charging.

Hiller quickly extricated his arm from around Winona's, dropped to one knee, and began laying down shots his his rifle, bursts of duplicated depleted uranium rounds shattering acrid heads. He quickly switched to auto-fire and stun rounds when the acrids got too close, "You know, this rifle's not that bad, but it sure would be nice if it had some grenades."

"Noted," said Winona, as she send a spell that slashed through a trio of acrids, sending a burst of silvery blood across the space. Luckily the face plates were charmed such that, not only did fog not accumulate on the inside, but various ichors didn't accumulate on the outside either.

"Okay, bringing in some heavies," said Shepard, as she paused his firing. Winona turned to cover the gap left, but only temporarily, as four giants suddenly appeared surrounding the trio of Earthlings.

They stood about seven meters tall, and had proportions roughly that of some Marines that Hiller had known, if only by reputation. They wore that same style of outfits that the ghouls above had worn, boots, trousers, jacket, balaclava, and body armor and helmet over them, all in black with the copper and silver Cerberus logo and the blue flag of New York the only color. Instead of the rifle, SMG, and grenade launcher the ghouls at the Normandy were armed with, Hiller could only describe the weapon the giant ghouls wielded as a cannon, looking not unlike the Vulcan of his Hornet, or the Avenger of the Warthog. Then, they began to attack, and as the sound made its way though his ear protection, he knew his guess was right.

The giant ghouls, or rather ghoul giants, began to slowly walk forward, clearing their area even more, as the acrids began to waver, and then retreat. Unfortunately they retreated into the mass of their own invasion force, and were stalled, becoming a wall of dead bodies.

"Holy shit," said Hiller, as he paused in firing, watching the walking talks, and their cannons, tear through the acrids like a chainsaw through butter.

"We've got Attackers," said Winona, ducking as a squadron of Attackers, over twenty of the sleek craft, began to counter the ghoul giants.

"I've got them," said Shepard, and then two of the ghoul giants lifted their cannons from the mass of soldiers before them, and then upon the Attackers.

Hiller smiled, seeing the Attackers explode as the line of hot depleted uranium cut through them, their shields still down due to the virus. "Well, let's not let them have all the fun," he said, as he stood and began to jog after the advancing ghoul giants, his shots transitioning from frantic attacks to mercy kills.

Over the next half hour, and joined by a company of human-sized ghouls, the three Earthlings cleared the invasion assembly platform, even going so far as to destroy all but one of the waiting Troop Transports. Among the dead acrids were two of the ghoul giants, their heads destroyed by shots from the Attackers, and over a dozen of the small ghouls, from both the Attackers and attacks from the acrids themselves.

When Hiller had asked why one of the Troop Transports was saved, Winona had responded, "To bring the aliens to Earth to surrender, of course."


End file.
